


Storyline

by Sarcastic_Raspberry



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Family, Gen, Headcanon, Parent POV, Single Parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-09-21 16:03:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 26,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9556268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarcastic_Raspberry/pseuds/Sarcastic_Raspberry
Summary: Miguel Reyes always loved his son, and knew that he could do great things. This is a story following Gabriel's life from before the beginning to the end, as seen by his father.





	1. Chapter 1

She danced into your life when you were only seventeen. 

You were Miguel Reyes, a boy who was barely a man and saw it fit to follow your friends into a party downtown.

On spring break from college, she was an american woman with a personality as voluminous as the curls of her hair. She didn’t dance like any of the others. It was a rave of sorts, though you’d never call it that, and here she was moving to a slower beat. It was messy and out of sync, the kind of thing that drew you in further.

One night together, a simple night of talking.

She turned down your offer of a date in her final days of her break. You weren’t surprised, she was two years your senior after all. Surprisingly, she handed you her contact information on the back of a napkin, written in a bright orange hue that matched her lipstick.

That was how you met your future wife, Silvia, and how she gave you a silent promise that she would wait.

She would visit again when you were eighteen. This time, it wasn’t for any break and there weren’t any friends for her to group up with. She was there for you and for you only.

You’d talked for a year and a half, but this was your first time really meeting one another face to face. It felt as though you’d known each other for years. It was your return on that promise that you would wait for her to finish school so that she could come down and live with you.

She would visit again on your nineteenth birthday for just one week. And, at the end of that week, you two had one crazy weekend that would change the rest of your lives.

As a result of that weekend, it was a month later that she called to tell you that she was pregnant.

You weren’t stupid, and neither was she. You two knew what you were doing but, as things were, she was in college. You were only a year out of highschool with very limited plans for the future.

When you told your family, you thought your catholic father would turn against you, but he only told you to do what you thought was right.

What you thought was right, of course, was going up to America. Silvia had schooling ahead of her that she’d already invested in, it wouldn’t have been right to ask her to be down in Mexico with you.

You researched ways to gain your citizenship and also gain a job. The simplest solution, at the time, was to join the US Army. It wasn’t an easy task, by any means. Without your child being “born” at the time, you couldn’t really chalk that up as family, neither were you or Silvia married. Still, the situation was enough of an oddball to warrant approval. You, Miguel Reyes, were on your way to becoming an American citizen.

It was hard to put yourself in a position where you were away from Silvia, and some days left you wondering why you’d crammed yourself into an army base with all of these strangers with only her video chats as company. At least before, when you two were chatting through video, you could spend the rest of your time with friends  and family.

Eight months into your year that you needed to gain your citizenship, and you received a call from the hospital. It was one more video message at the start of your wife’s labor. Your child was coming, and you were halfway around the world.

She had to stop streaming during the actual birth, but her sister was with her and made sure to fill you in later, complete with a video that captured your son’s first cries. At the time though, you were the one crying as you worried and fussed with yourself. A few of the soldiers asked why you were pacing. You quickly explained and they immediately let out a few cheers. Some, who had been in your shoes, consoled you with stories of their wives.

Prior to this incident, you’d never taken the time to really speak to these men. Eight months of feeling like an alien on another planet was brought to an end with the realization that these older men were like you in more ways than you would have ever expected.

Finally, the second request for a video chat came through and Silvia almost screamed when she saw the audience that had gathered behind you to see your child. And there he was. Silvia directed the camera away from her, though you couldn’t understand how she could ever think she wasn’t beautiful. Still, all protest of not seeing her face ended when you finally got to see your son. Your beautiful son with eyes scrunched shut in the light of the hospital room and clear skin that was a darker tone than yours, but not quite as dark as Silvia’s. He had her lips, that much was already clear, and you could see a facial structure that mirrored your own from when you were a child.

More tears erupted as the men behind you clapped you on the shoulder and the back, cheering around you for the infant in a white blanket who didn’t even know how many people were already supporting him half a world away. Still, part of you still likes to think that he knew how much you already loved him.

Your son took your last name, though you and Silvia weren’t yet married, making him Gabriel Reyes. It fit with a theme the men in your family followed. Raphael, your father, was named for the angel of the same name, and you for Michael. It only seemed right that your son carry on the tradition where your family couldn’t follow. They were still excited to hear the news, and your mother finally sent boxes upon boxes of your old baby toys and blankets, along with a knit cap your father made and a demand from the man himself that you teach your son how to knit his own.

You agreed to teach him all of the wonderful things you knew.

Finally, four months later, you’d earned your full US citizenship. At this point, you could have left the army if you’d wanted. Still, that brought up what kind of job would come next. You’d never been much of a planner, and this wasn’t proving easy for you.

You had one month with Silvia and the now four month old Gabriel when leave came around. He was big for his age, but not big enough to escape an infant-sized costume on Halloween. Your first holiday with your son was going to be the best, and you declared as such. Silvia was just glad you were here, but that didn’t stop her from laughing along in agreement when you asked if she would be the bacon to your toast for halloween. Gabriel went as an egg, sunny side of course. You were a family breakfast, walking through the apartment building with a basket to collect candy. Most of it wouldn’t even be able to go to Gabriel until he was a bit older, but he was more than pleased when you handed him a ring pop.

Silvia worried about his nonexistent teeth, but you assured her he would be fine.

It was a good night, even if you did cringe when one of the neighbors, who knew Silvia fairly well and apparently baby sat Gabriel on a few occasions, had to ask who you were. It wasn’t her fault, she had no idea who you were and had no way of knowing. That didn't mean it didn’t hurt a little to see someone that had anything close to a large role in Silvia's life didn’t have a place in yours. 

That would have to be fixed.

So it was.

As the month went on, you spent plenty of time with Gabriel and Silvia, meeting neighbors you’d only heard stories about and, of course, talking about what was to come.

You both agreed that the benefits of the army were plentiful and helpful. You didn’t miss the hollow look in her eyes when you suggested sticking with it for a little while, but she agreed. It was a better plan than falling onto her paycheck alone while you looked for a job in the area with a baby and school on her mind.

You married at the courthouse by the end of the month, her sister as the only one from her family who paid witness, which sent you back to the base as a married man. 

This also was a joy to your very catholic father.

So you stuck with the army for one more year, and another after that. That was the year Silvia got sick.

It started with small things you only noticed at the tail end of your third leave. She assured you she was fine, and you almost pushed the subject. You were cut off when Gabriel pulled defiantly on your pant leg, demanding that you see what he built.

So you dropped it and indulged in your son.  You sometimes questioned if he knew what you were to him. You’d still like to think that he knew what your role as his father meant, and that those cries of “Papi! Papi! Look what I did!” were reserved only for you and that pride that he held was in the hopes that you would share that pride. You’d like to think that he cared as much as Silvia assured you he did. 

When Silvia died, you greeted him with open arms, tears in your eyes, and an honourable discharge on your shoulders. Silvia didn’t have much family in LA, and your family was still in Mexico, a country you only had claim to through heritage.

Now you were holding your closest flesh and blood in your arms when he pulled back and held onto your shoulders.

“Papi, where’s mommy?”

The question startled you. She’d passed at the hospital. The neighbor he was staying with until you got back gave you a pitying look from the couch.

What could you say?

You only held him closer and sobbed over his shoulder while he clung ignorantly to your neck.

You took him to an empty apartment he called home and you called strange. Living with at least one roommate at all times left you feeling lonely the first time you tried to sleep. You had to sleep on the couch. You couldn’t sleep in the same bed that smelled so much like her. The entire house smelled like her.

Gabriel still didn’t have his answer until the day before you went down to the crematory her body had been transported to after you confirmed that, yes, this dead woman was your young wife. You were made to say such  in a hospital morgue that smelled more like latex than it did of the death it kept there.

She was ready for a crematory you really couldn’t afford on top of the medical bills. The greedy doctors couldn’t save her, but they still wanted their money. It sent a chill up your spine.

That chill only worsened when you and your son were granted a few moments alone with her body.

At this point, Gabriel knew full well that Silvia wasn’t coming back when you held him up to peak onto the metal table. The preparations were made, though it wasn’t like in the movies. She didn’t look like she was sleeping. You’d seen Silvia while she was sleeping, lying awake next to her in the glow of an alarm clock and mapping out her face with your eyes. Then, in that cold room, there was something unnatural about the way her chest wasn’t moving. The flush of her cheeks was all makeup, and the glow of her skin was absent and left her sallow.

“Hi mommy,” Gabriel said, a grin stretched wide. “Papi says you’re going away for a little while.”

“A long while, mijo.”

He looked up at your monotone correction before he said, “Oh, right, a long while,” and turned back to her body. “I just wanted you to know we’ll be okay. I know you worried about papi a lot, but I’ll keep an eye on him.”

You chuckled as tears welled in your eyes. He was his mother’s son.

“I love you mommy, and I don’t know why you’re sleeping, or why you’re leaving, but I know I’ll see you again some day. I promise.”

You sniffled and gripped his shoulders, which made him turn to look up at you.

“Why are you crying?” he asked, gesturing to be picked up. When you did such, he was the one consoling you.

He dug his palms into your eyes, pushing away the tears in a way that was less than gentle, something that could only be done by a child who didn’t know his own strength.

A child who didn’t know what you meant when you said his mother was dead.

You still rubbed circles into his back. And murmured things in a language he couldn’t understand about how unfair it all was and how stupid you were for not coming home sooner. That was always your biggest flaw.You never knew when to come back to earth.

You took your wife home in a decorative tomb you could fit in your hand, placing her on a shelf you’d cleared out in her name. You’d need a proper job soon. You needed to get out of this apartment you didn’t really own.

Silvia’s family, who didn’t really like that she’d settled down with you in the first place, saw it as blessing enough that they were willing to take on her debt for the schooling she never got to use. She wanted to be a vet. There was a specific level and title you could never understand, but it was only a testament to who she was. She always wanted to help.

Her sister offered, but you declined quickly.

Your family had no money to give, and you were never going to ask.

Those benefits you’d cared oh so much about proved useful after you applied for them. You’d still need a job. With your basically free schooling, you pursued a degree of your own. A bachelor’s in accounting. Math was something you always understood. You could do math.

Raising a son while earning that degree and working your first american job, however, was something that was a bit harder. You don’t know how Silvia managed.

Gabriel’s reassuring words aside, you knew his mother’s disappearance was bothering him. He didn’t understand after all. He couldn’t understand. You made him dinner, but he’d only say “Mommy never makes that.” He’d eat it though. You’d ask what book he wanted to read at night before you had to go to work, and he’d only say, “Mommy always reads about the cat.”

You were trying, but he wasn’t understanding why you did what you did. You were a stranger, as much as you didn’t want to be.

Soon you managed to get into a rhythm of your own, working with each other to make this life work.

More than that, you made it worth it.

To him, you grew to mean more than just a man who stood in his life. You made the words “Father” and “papi” mean something. He hadn’t forgotten his mother, and every celebration of Dias los Muertos brings on a new feeling to both of you. To you, what used to be a feeling of loss is now a mixed feeling that, in a way, makes things complete.


	2. Chapter 2

When Gabriel was four, you enrolled him in preschool. This allowed you free time you never wanted and, honestly, it broke your heart to see so many children clinging to their parents while he ran openly to the teacher. It was more than a bit funny to see him wrap his arms around the teacher’s legs in an open hug.

Such a lovely boy. So welcoming.

The teacher laughed along as well and ushered him inside. It’s moments like these you remember well. Moments of progress. Moments that brought him closer to leaving.

You tried not to think about it too much.

When It came to the preschool's winter concert, something you were eager to attend, they were looking for volunteers. Something about the piano slamming on the music teacher’s fingers. They needed someone to play, but the teacher, Mrs. Nettle, would still be directing.

You volunteered immediately, desperate for another moment you could share together. Your piano was more than a little rusty. Almost five years. Still, you could read sheet music and they would open up the music room for practice.

Seeing your son on stage rehearsing was the best part.

He was so excited, desperate for the part of the angel, even though the angel didn’t have any lines.

Apparently, the angel was the only character that got to sing on their own. It was a small solo, only three lines of one song. He didn’t know that when he asked for the part, nor when he got the part. Only during rehearsals. He did well, but it wasn’t until you were driving home when you asked why he wanted the part in the first place.

He only smiled and said, “The angel has the same name is me.”

You snorted a puff of laughter at that.

The concert went well, even if there was almost an accident involving one of the wise men tripping over a wooden sheep.

They did wonderfully. Next you did a few musical numbers for a small musical about two children finding the purpose of hanukkah, which you remember one of the kids being extremely insistent that you use real candles instead of the fake ones Mrs. Nettle had set up. Then there was another about the seven principles of Kwanzaa. The candles on the kinara had been rearranged by a little girl who thought they would look better in a pattern than with the green on the right and red on the right, which almost caused an issue before you quickly set the order right and made it down from the stage in time to play off the score, accompanied by three children. Each had a different drum, and sounded interesting with the xylophone setting of the keyboard.

It was only at the end of that night that you realized you didn’t have any pictures of the event.

When you asked Mrs. Nettle if she kept video, she said that a woman named Alica Newburgh filmed the concert and shared it on Facebook. Something you didn’t have.

When you asked about getting a MP4 file for yourself, she directed you to where Alica was usually stationed after the concerts and plays so that you could exchange contact information.

When you started walking over to her, you were surprised to see a blur of white sprint from your side over to the woman by the exit.

“Ms. Newburgh! Ms. Newburgh!” Gabriel jumped to her side, literally, angel wings already bent from his thrashing as his halo slid down his head. “Did you see?”

“Yes, Gabriel, I saw. You made a perfect angel,” she said, leaning down to talk to him.

“Yea! Yea! And Sam almost tripped over Micky, but they were okay because Felicia helped them stay up- Mrs. Nettle told Micky to tie up his robe.”

“Yes, that was quite a save,” she agreed with a laugh. “How did you like the hanukkah play?”

“It was really cool! Kimmy said the candles would look better if the candles were put up differently, but I think they looked good. And Kurtis almost dropped his drum on the way out but the song was great! You know, my papi was playing the keyboard!”

“Oh?” she looked up, meeting your eyes. “Is that your papi over there?” she asked in a whisper, leaning down.

Gabriel turned around as if, in his excitement, he’d forgotten you. Then his grin was back, about 10-watts greater as he bounded back over to you.

“Papi! Come over! You gotta meet Ms. Newburgh!” He pulled on your hand with both of his, tugging you forward.

“Um, hello,” you said, shifting your weight when you came to stand in front of her. Adults were odd to interact with at this point. “I am Miguel Reyes.”

“Alica Newburgh,” she said with a small nod. “It’s a pleasure to meet Gabriel’s famous father.”

“Famous?” you croaked nervously as you glanced at your son.

“He talks about you a lot. He even said you taught him out  tried showing some other students how to crochet. It was impressive, even if he did use the tassels on the library drapes to do it.”

You remembered hearing about that. It wasn’t too serious, though he did almost take down the drapes in the process. You never thought you’d have to confiscate crochet needles.

“Ah, yes. I’m sorry about that,” you said quickly. “Uh, please remind me, I don’t recall seeing you at the teacher meetings in the beginning of the year.”

“Oh, well, I’m only a TA,” she said. “I want to run my own daycare. Or, you know, work at some place like this,” she gestured around her.

“I see,” you said. Before you could forget what you wanted to see her for, you perked up and said, “Ah- I believe you recorded the concert?”

“Yes, you can find it on the school’s Facebook.”

“Well, that’s the thing,” you smiled apologetically.

“Don’t have one?”

Her question was poised with certainty in her tone.

When you nodded, she only laughed, bringing a hand to her mouth.

“Well, then I’ll just have to get you an MP4. Do you have an email?”

“Who doesn’t these days?” he asked.

“I wouldn’t put it past the man who doesn’t have a Facebook,” she said playfully, taking out a pad of paper and a pen. She scribbled down an email of her own and handed it over.

“Couldn’t I just give you mine?” you asked.

“Something tells me you’ll be needing mine as well. Besides, it’s better this way. I might forget or misplace the slip,” she admitted. “Go ahead and send your name to me- so I know who it is- and I’ll reply with the video. Okay?”

He nodded. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” She turned down to Gabriel and straightened his halo. “See you after break.”

“Bye, Ms. Newburgh!” he crowed, pulling you out the door with little time to respond.

You managed a wave, and she returned the gesture.

By the time you were in your third year of college, you’d snagged an internship. This was a paid internship that offered paid on the clock training. You knew the programs of the field well and could run a spreadsheet like no one else. You’d knocked out your off-major courses required for your degree, now you just had to focus on the remaining core courses and had a lot more time on your hands. Gabriel was six now.

Kindergarten suited him well. It was nice to see him with friends his own age. One friend in particular was Damien Philips, a little boy with a big heart, who you remember quite well.

Soon though, you had to move out of your apartment. You don’t know how you managed to hold onto the two bedroom for so long after they allowed you to resign on the lease.

Now you were required to find somewhere else for your little family to stay. What better place than bunking up with the woman who’d been keeping you afloat all this time? 

Alica had grown to be a very close family friend, and she was more than willing to split bills while she finished up her final year. After this year, she’d be on her way to becoming a proper teacher.

You smiled at the thought and silently congratulated her.

You were coming out on top as far as your dream went. Or, your new dream. After this, it would be one more year. Then you could get a license and back to the government jobs you went. After all, who did people love more than actuaries?

You didn’t like asking yourself that.

You and Gabriel were sharing a bedroom, something you’d never had the pleasure. He didn’t mind much, and saw it as a little sleep over more than anything. Still, he’d need his own bedroom again.

Alica figured the same and it came to the point where she sat you down while Gabriel was at school.

“Miguel,” she said, “I wanted to ask you something.”

You hummed inquisitively, turning up across the dinner table from your spreadsheet. Taking off the glasses you still think you were too young for, you asked her, “What is it, Alica?”

“We’ve been living together for a little over a year now,” she said, “and we’ve known each other for almost three. I think it’s time I bring something up that I’ve been thinking about for a long time.”

“And what is that?”

“I think we should go in on a house together.”

You nodded slowly, not really understanding why her tone was so serious.

“I was just thinking that, if we did do that, it might be difficult as two separate households.”

“And what would you propose?”

She smiled sadly and lowered her eyes.

“After Silvia,” the name cut a narrow stripe into your demeanor, “did you ever want to get married again?”

The question took you off guard.

“I know that you’re still young,” she said, “so if you didn’t think that far ahead or think you might still like to, then I wouldn’t be mad. Don’t think that’s where I’m going with this.”

“Okay,” you said, “then where are you going with this?”

“Well, I’ve known for a long time that I never wanted to get married to anyone. But I have always wanted a son, and someone to be a real companion. I feel like, if there ever was a perfect person for that, it would be you.”

You twisted your head to the side, a smile rising on your face. It was a mixed smile. Half of it was embarrassment and the other half was in pure disbelief.

“I, uh,” you didn’t know where you were going when you began humming and hawing your way through the sentence, “I am flattered that you think that, but I don’t think we’re looking for the same thing.”

“It would only be if you weren’t considering remarrying at all,” she said. “I wouldn’t want to rip that away from you in any way. You deserve to find love again.”

You thought that would be the end of that conversation but, before you knew it, you were bringing it up again on your own terms. If you were honest with yourself, which you eventually were, you weren’t ready for someone else. Gabriel needed it though. He needed something more stable than a family friend. That’s what you kept telling yourself when you married your best friend.

Your family was pleased, though they never knew the true motivations behind your marriage. They thought you were moving on. Maybe you were, in your own right.

That changed when Gabriel was in third grade.

Times had changed. You were living in a house now with a steady job. Gone were the days of struggling and living alone.

Gabriel was older, playing with other kids. There was one morning that you woke up worried to find him out of his bed, only to see a note on the table that talked about Damien pulling him out that morning for early soccer practice.

Alica talked to him when he got home about actually telling you guys before leaving the house, but you couldn’t stop smiling about how your son was behaving like a kid.

It was wednesday, and you can still remember everything about that day perfectly.

Gabriel was messy, a grass smear up his arm from where he’d fallen after tripping over the ball. Soccer practice was good for him. It got him out of the house, and it also kept him in touch with his friends.

Soccer practice is full of fond memories, but you can’t help but shudder when you think of the words.

You’d forgotten to pick Gabriel up earlier that day, so Alica’d gone to the grocery store instead of you while you picked him up.

It was a car crash that took your second wife. Your best friend.

Another call from the hospital to tell you how they’d failed you a second time.

Her urn had its own spot, on a shelf separate of Silvia’s, and she had her own portrait on that shelf. Of course, that would come later, and it would only come after you had to coach Gabriel out of his room to say his goodbyes. He understood his mother, but now Alica was gone too and he was taking it as well as you expected him to.

He was crying, angry with the world and himself. You knew how that felt, because you had gone through it twice at this point. Two loves of your life. As different as the places they held in your heart were, it didn’t make it feel like you’d lost anything less than a part of yourself.

This time, you weren’t selfishly putting yourself above him. He’d lost just as much as you did, both times around.

He never locked his door, and rarely closed it. Still, you knocked when you came to the white door. He’d been so excited when you’d stenciled the red letters on the door, labeling the room as his. His first room that you really owned.

Now he’d remember it like this.

“Come in,” he whimpered from the other side.

You opened the door to find him in his single bed, legs curled against his forehead as he tried to calm his breathing.

He didn’t want you to see him cry.

“It’s okay, mijo,” you slid into bed next to him, rubbing his shoulders. “It’s okay to be upset.”

“Why did she have to go out?” he asked. “Why-” he hiccupped, “why couldn’t she just stay here?”

“I don’t know. Sometimes things like this just happen. It’s awful but they do.”

“It’s not fair!” Gabriel wailed as he balled into your side. You held him through it, rubbing his back as you murmured comforting nonsense to him.

You didn’t cry this time.

Instead, you sat there and comforted your son. This was his turn to cry out against you, and it was your turn to be the brave one as you both watched a casket enter a glorified oven. That Halloween was proceeded by a day that carried more weight than usual. You didn’t don your usual skull paint, instead sitting quietly with your son as you both painted delicate patterns over the sugar skulls.


	3. Chapter 3

Elementary school, heartache and broken feelings aside, finished smoothly. Gabriel was only affected positively by Alica.

You remember him running home asking you to help him with a frog some older kids had been messing with by the creek. He’d scared them off with threat of calling you, even though you would have been too far away to help out. You were proud of his moxie, and took some comfort in the idea that he still believed in you that much.

The frog lived, and stayed with you for a month before you convinced Gabriel that store-bought crickets were only spoiling the poor creature and you both released him into his natural habitat.

Life was so precious to him, as it should be.

He lived every moment like it was the best moment of his life.

In middle school, he joined drama club and participated in the musical. He kept up with his soccer friends, and you remember him pointedly telling Damien, “I don’t care! Drama’s cool and I’m gonna do it!”

Twelve year olds.

You’re glad that he wasn’t affected by what anyone said to him.

He did great, even if the best performance, in your opinion, was that original point as the archangel. You told him as such, prompting him to blush and push away your hand from where it rested on his face.

He’d snagged the part of Oliver Hix from  _ The Music Man _ . You don’t remember a lot of the play, and you only have the scenes he was in on record. They didn’t need you to help out this time around. He did wonderfully though, and you made sure to only pester him about how good he was until he told you that he had to meet up with the rest of the cast for the after-party. You winced, noting that the girl throwing the party was an eighth grader. You trusted your son, you really did. You just wished there was a way to keep an eye on him.

He let you hug him, even squeezing back unashamedly before he ran off with the others. It was a silent promise that he wasn’t letting go forever. He’d told you a week prior that another mother was car-pooling to the party and he was going to tag along.

As you watched him exit the auditorium, there was a sinking feeling in your heart.

That sinking feeling only grew, though it wasn’t comparable to the joy and pride you felt as the years progressed.

Sixth grade brought on another play and a musical, both of which you attended with the widest eyes and brightest smile. It was on the second play of the year that you actually bothered talking to any of the other adults involved. No, that’s not right. That would mean it was you seeking the group out and not the drama teacher shouting, “Mr. Reyes!” over the heads of people as he made his way over.

He was a tiny man with too much energy for his own good. If you were a more skittish or standoffish man, you would have shoved him off when he hugged you around the waist like a long lost friend. This must have looked laughably odd, considering your six-foot three height, and it drew a few looks from around the room.

Then, he pulled away and took your hand up before you could greet him.

It’s worth stating that you don’t remember this man’s name, and you didn’t know it when he rushed over to you, nor did he introduce himself upon releasing you from the hug. For now, we’ll refer to him as Mr. Touchy.

“Oh! I knew you had to be his father! You look so much alike! Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that I am very proud of how far he’s come! I’m looking forward to another great school year with him! You have a wonderful son!”

You drank in what he was saying, smiling in response and nodding.

“Thank you,” you said quietly.

“No! No! Thank you for letting him in the program! He’s an absolute delight to work with! He’s always so eager to get started, and really livens up the room! You’d almost think this boy was born with a bowler hat!”

You still don’t understand what he meant by that, but you laughed about it later when you picked Gabriel up from that after party.

“Not to mention his piano lessons are going wonderfully!”

That caught your attention.

“Piano?”

He didn’t catch your tone, nodding hurriedly as he proceeded to tell you how much your son was progressing on an instrument you didn’t know he’d picked up.

It made you curious, but not enough to ask him. Though, for the next few months, it did bug you. Why would he have kept it a secret?

It certainly explained why he didn’t want to be home for the hour before play practice started, as Mr. Touchy kindly told you he loved the diligence in taking the hour to practice in the choir room.

It was a small lie, but a lie all the same. It made you wonder what else he wasn’t telling you about.

Still, you trusted your son.

That trust seemed to pay off during the end of the year play. Unlike the others, he’d pushed for you to come to the opening night. Unlike the other play, he’d arranged a ticket near the front.

“I had to clean out the prop room to get this,” he said half-jokingly as he handed it to you. “So you  _ need _ to come!”

You weren’t planning to say no.

This play was one of your personal favorites of the ones he would continue putting on at the school.  _ Acting Can Be Murder.  _ It was interesting to say the least.

Then, after the show, he escorted you further into the school and toward the choir room. You’d actually never been in there before, and took the time to peak around as he directed you toward a seat in the front row of the chorus room chairs.

Your heart almost stopped when he placed himself at the piano at the front of the room and lifted the cover.

The music began slow, and he was staring at the keys with his shoulders tensed throughout the beginning.

He stumbled over a few notes before he finally reached the first words and your heart tensed further.

“When I am down, and oh my soul so weary…”

You stilled throughout the beginning as he continued, pausing at certain notes until it got to the point where he was pushing through the occasional sour note.

You didn’t notice them, you were too busy trying not to cry or make a noise that would distract him.

Finally, his notes became more fluid and his voice more confident and the song grew to a slow stop.

“You raise me up, to more than I could be.”

When he finished, he looked away from the keys slowly, locking eyes with you and standing up in a rush.

“Ah! Papá, are you okay?” he asked, cutting around the piano.

Apparently, you didn’t do a good job of not crying.

Before he could say anything, you stood up and hugged him, bringing him in close to your chest. He was almost five feet tall, coming well up to your shoulder, but it still felt like you were hugging your four year old all over again.

“I’ve been practicing with Mr. Touchy for a few months,” he said as he pulled back to look at you. “I wanted to do it for your birthday, but any other day would have the room blocked off.”

“You went through all of this for me?” you asked, tears welling up again. “¡Me lo encanta!”

He winced for a second, face pulled into confusion.

“I-Is that good?”

You chuckled, having forgotten in your excitement that he couldn’t understand spanish.

“I love it!” you exclaimed again, this time in english.

He beamed at you and you left with an arm on each others’ shoulders. Walking down the hall, you were surprised to feel him stop dead in his tracks.

“Agh! Wait!” he said, turning on his heel and all but flying down the hall.

“Where are you going, mijo?”

“I forgot the choir room key!”

You laughed as you watched after him.

Seventh grade brought him a new interest to throw himself into, that being basketball. When you asked where the idea to sign up had come from, he only answered that Damien was joining.

You had to stifle a chuckle. “And that’s it? Don’t they need you in the winter play?”

He shrugged and smirked. “Gotta keep myself busy!”

“Yea, well you should keep those grades high too,” you shook a pen at him, brow raised. “Are you sure about this?”

“I’m positive!”

Finally, you signed the permission slips for tryouts and practices.

He made it, and it was odd to see him with peers that made him look of a somewhat normal height. Your boy was a giraffe growing up, even Damien was ranked a few inches shorter. Unlike his first soccer practices, you didn’t stick around to watch them. It made part of you feel like you were being a bad parent, but a majority of you knew that this was space that he needed.

After practice, you pulled up to the front of the school to see Gabriel and Damien sitting on the planters out front. When he saw you, he walked up to the passenger window and, instead of getting in, leaned on the sil.

“Damien’s mom is working late tonight,” he said, “Can we drop him off?”

You looked past him at the other boy, who waved and offered a weak smile. 

“Of course,” you said with a wide smile.

They both piled into the back and you started the drive, occasionally looking back as they attempted keeping their conversation quiet.

“So, Damien,” you said eventually, “What made you want to join basketball?”

“I wanted to join for a long time,” he said, “But you can only join in seventh grade.”

“Ah, I see. Seems like a silly rule,” you said.

“Yea it’s pretty dumb, but it’s mostly for guys who want to play in high school. I guess it’s their way of keeping things pretty tight.”

You only nodded, still not liking the rule one bit.

Selective, you supposed.

Either way, you dropped Damien off at his house and wished him a good night, Gabriel sitting in the front seat afterwards.

This pattern would continue for the next few weeks.

Picking up both boys, bringing Damien to his house and driving home. It was one of the rides that struck up something new. It was a heavy feeling when they got into the back of the car. They didn’t sit close, as they usually did when they gossipped and bickered, thinking you couldn’t hear them.

This time, they were quiet. You remember trying to pick up a conversation or two, but they were met with one word responses.

Finally, you dropped Damien off, and started driving home with Gabriel in the passenger’s seat.

This time, you tried again, “Did something happen between you and Damien?”

“No.”

It was a lie. Your son was always a horrible liar.

You made a face, but didn’t press. It was his decision to tell you.

Next practice, you picked them both up again and, this time, they sat close but still didn’t say anything.

You asked again, “Is Damien alright? You both looked a bit sick.”

“No, we’re okay.”

There was something wrong. You could feel it. Still, you didn’t press.

The next day, you drove them again and you saw them sitting almost on top of each other this time, close and smiling. You were glad to see them back to normal, but you still couldn’t figure out what might have happened.

Part of you thought they’d just had a bit of an argument. 

That was proven wrong a few days later when Damien stepped out of the car and Gabriel seated himself up front. He had this odd habit of crossing his arms when he was anxious.

He did as such, eyes flicking up to look at you.

You barely remember the question you tried to ask him. It was something along the lines of, “How was school?”

But all you got out was “How was-” before he blerted out, “Damien and I are dating!”

You looked down at your son with a face that you wish you could say was anything but shock as you almost swerved off the road.

It wasn’t at what he said, more so at the fact that your usually docile, yet loud son rarely shouted so abruptly.

“You are?” you asked once you’d managed to correct the car and drive normally.

Gabriel’s arms wound tighter around themselves.

“Yea, I just thought you should know.”

His face was feigned confidence, and his hands were digging into his arms.

Thinking quickly, you could only think to say, “That’s wonderful,” with a wide grin on your face because what else would you say about your son finding someone that he cares for?

Were you surprised that it was another boy?

No.

Possibly.

Probably.

Okay, you were, but you didn’t let that phase you and it certainly didn’t bother you.

“You’re okay?” Gabriel asked. “Even though he’s a guy?”

“Gabriel, it’s the twenty-first century,” you said, shaking your head.

“But aren’t we catholic?”

“Yes,” you said with a smirk, “Your mother and I had you out of wedlock, is that catholic of us?”

“Well, I thought that kind of went with a God’s plan kind of thing.”

“And it’s God’s plan for you to be with Damien. Should it be up to me to decide what God wants?”

Gabriel smiled at that for a second before he let his face drift into something else as you pulled the car into the driveway and turned it off.

Finally, you turned to face him fully in your seat. “If you’re dating a boy, then that’s fine. It’s perfectly okay, however you decide to go about this. If, down the line, you decide to marry a man too-”

“Dad please.”

“No, no, it’s fine! But I will have a few ground rules. One, you’re getting married in a proper church. It will be lovely, and I’ll figure it out. Two, he’s walking down the aisle, not you.”

Gabriel pulled a face. “Why?”

“Father of the bride pays. Whoever walks up the aisle is, in that sense, the bride.”

He laughed at that.

“And then I want grandchildren,” you said, waving your arm out to gesture to the car. “Adopted, surrogate, I don’t care. Understood?”

Still laughing, he groaned, “Papá,” and slid out of the car.

You watched after him.

As stated, you were happy Gabriel found someone to care for.

You liked Damien.

Emphasis on lik _ ed _ .

That changed when you caught Gabriel listening to the same song from some loud metal band on a saturday afternoon and not flying out the door as he usually did on weekends, or even leaving his room for that matter. You’re willing to admit you didn’t have a lot of experience with dating, but you have sisters and brothers who went through harsh break ups. You know the signs.

The relationship lasted two months, to their credit, and you’re honestly not sure if Gabriel took a break up as hard as he did this one. First loves are hard to get over, especially when you’re young.

Growing up is hard and, try as you may have, even you didn’t understand.

You really thought some time alone would have been good for him, but that changed when you heard the song change to Halsey and, honestly, where had he even heard of these old artists?

That was when you knocked on his door, only to hear the music turn off and something clatter around before he said, “Come in.”

You entered, holding a family sized bag of Takis and wearing a grin you hoped didn’t look too awkward or forced.

His certainly did as he leaned over his laptop screen.

His eyes weren’t puffy, so he hadn’t been crying. That was good.

You didn’t have to kill Damien anytime soon.

“Do you want to come watch some TV? I think I saw  _ High School Musical _ on the movie channel.”

“You hate  _ High School Musical.” _

He was right, and you still regret buying it when he picked it up in the clearance department. You regret it even more than when he found out there was a sequel. You never did tell him there was a third.

“I think you could use it.”

He looked down at the desk, closing his laptop and running his fingers over the case.

Now it was time for the question you knew had to be asked, “How’s Damien doing?”

“He’s great.” He looked away from you. “Him and his new girlfriend.” There we go. “I don’t get it! We broke up a week ago and yea, it was fine, and we both went through it okay, but a week later? I  _ knew  _ he was seeing someone else! I knew it! He could have just told me that he wanted to see someone else, he didn’t have to lie and say that he ‘didn’t have time for a relationship!’ I mean, how stupid does he think I am?”

“He doesn’t think you’re stupid,” you said, “He probably thought that would make it easier for you. And, for that, he’s the stupid one.”

He let out a humorless laugh. “You got that right! Ugh that stupid fucking-” he looked at you, “Augh! Sorry!”

“No it’s fine,” you said quickly. “You can swear today. And you can come out into the living room and play  _ High School Musical  _ as loud as you’d like and as many times as you’d like. And you can eat this entire bag of Takis on the couch while you tell me everything you want to about anything you’d like.” You shook the bag for emphasis. He met your eyes as you smiled softly.

He returned the smile and stood, grabbing the bag. “Thanks dad.”

“No problem.”

So he did watch  _ High School Musical.  _ Seven times in fact, until he passed out and you let him sleep on the couch because he was way too big to carry back to his room, and he needed some sleep. Honestly, that was the best movie night you’d ever had, if only to see him happy again.


	4. Chapter 4

Happiness would continue through high school, as your son grew taller and his social circle grew wider. He would love again, and that break up would run smoother. You’d like to think it was because he knew that time around that you would be there for him.

He’d learned to take comfort in himself.

All of that pride in his independence soon turned into despair when you heard those fatal words:

“I want to join the military.”

He was seventeen.

“Are you sure about this?”

You’d never wanted to tell him no until that moment. That moment, this sensation dug into you. You had to say no, you wanted to tell him that he couldn’t do that to you.

Apparently, that internal desperation showed because, in that moment, he looked confused.

“Yea. A few recruiters came into our school,” the bastards, “they said a lot of programs are offered with sign up,” manipulation, “not to mention I think it’d be a good fit for me!” that was wrong.

You couldn’t imagine your baby with a gun.

“Well,” you trailed off. “What about teaching?”

The question left him surprised.

“Teaching might be good for you. You’re good with kids, and you were just talking yesterday about how you’d like to TA for Mr. Kratz. What about teaching?”

He just kind of stood there.

As much as you were at a loss when it came to you saying no, he didn’t know how to take your dodging the issue. 

“Is there something wrong?” he asked.

“I just don’t want you rushing into this. I understand that it might sound like a great idea right now, but you should really think about what else you want to do!”

“You went into the military, didn’t you think it was good?”

“That was only because I didn’t have any other option at the time,” you said. “I wish I’d found something else. Something closer to home. I just don’t want you to regret giving up this part of your life. It’s a big responsibility.”

He slackened a bit, eyes searching.

You gave a reluctant sigh.

“I’m not saying it’s the wrong path,” you said. “Just promise me you’ll think on it before you have me sign you up for boot camp this summer, okay?”

He returned your smile and nodded. “I’ll keep my options open. I promise.”

He kept them open. Even went to a few college fairs and spoke about options in different fields. 

When it was all said and done though, he had made his choice.

You didn’t want him in the Navy, and made that clear. The Army and the Airforce were options, but the Navy was off the table. You didn’t like any of the situations or pressure they put on their soldiers. It wasn’t preferred and, after talking it over, he agreed.

Instead, he was placed into the army. Fresh out of training, he was already to be stationed in Germany. You weren’t surprised they wanted him so quickly, or that he was so willing to go. He let you hug him before he left, though you didn’t allow yourself to do so at the actual base he was to be leaving from.

You knew he would have let you though.

Such a sweet boy.

When had he gotten so tall?

He had to have been only two inches shorter than you at this point.

Was that stubble you felt under your hand as you laid a hand on his face?

Your breath was picking up.

When had he grown up?

He hugged you again, and you clawed at his fatigues. The stiff material didn’t buckle under your fingers as you scraped, leaving you only pulling him closer. This was it. He was leaving.

He pulled away again, and you took comfort in the smile that beamed right at you. It was a reassurance.

“I’ll be fine, Papá. I promise,” he said, voice low.

You nodded.

“I know,” you said. “I know, I just get worried. You know how it is. I can’t stop thinking about what would happen if you didn’t come back.”

“Of course I’ll come back!” he insisted. “We’re in peace times!”

“I know you will. Now, come on. Let’s get you to the base so that you can leave me forever.”

“Papá! You know I’ll call every night.”

“I’m only joking, mijo, you don’t have to call every night!”

“But I’ll want to.”

Those words left you with a swell of pride. You’re proud of your son and the man he became over the years, that wasn’t any different in that moment.

Dropping him off at the base, you went home with an empty car. Still, you couldn’t feel lonely.

You’d gone from being surrounded by family to only your son, and that was all you needed. Now he was leaving, but you never felt like he was leaving you. He was still there in your life. You could see it in the video calls he’d make.

There were a few soldiers who would appear in videos, making faces at you where Gabriel couldn’t see. His roommate seemed to be the worst offender on that one, making his debut when Gabriel was attempting to show off their bunks.

You’d learned a few names, but you can’t remember them. You know that Gabriel would have remembered all of them. He was never able to forget them, even after the crisis began. Historians would place the Crisis as happening after this, later at the first real fight. Some would say it started a while before that at the creation of the first AI. For you, it started that night when you saw the breaking news from Germany of an Omnic rebellion.

The reason the cast was streamed to America, as well as english-speaking reporters dubbing over the stream, was because they started their attack with the destruction of an American base.

It cut to a shot of the base, fire trucks lining the streets around it.

Your heart nearly stopped.

The reporters weren’t allowed inside to the main building. Omnics may have still been inside.

You don’t know why you tried to call Gabriel.

So many irrational thoughts flooded through your mind. Hopes that he was off base at the time.

You could hear the reporters say that there wasn’t a sign of survivors when the phone went straight to voicemail.

You called again.

And again.

Again.

And again.

You couldn’t reach him.

Still, this feeling of hope wouldn’t go away. You didn’t go to sleep that night.

In the middle of the night, you received a call from an unknown number.

When you picked up, you weren’t expecting to hear, “Papá, it’s me.”

The words almost broke your heart as you let out a gasp and began sobbing with releif.

“Mijo! Gabriel, where are you?”

“The hospital.”

You had so many questions you wanted to ask, but he cut you off.

“There were so many of them. They,” his voice cracked, “they killed  _ everyone.” _

You would later come to find out that Gabriel was recovered from the base hours after the initial shots were fired.

While you were hearing about the raid at five that night, he was waking up to the screams and shots of his fellow officers at two in the morning.

He didn’t tell you much, other than he’d taken out an omnic who had their fingers wrapped around his throat. You’d been so close to losing your son that night, and you hadn’t even known. He fired a bullet that saved his life, but the omnic’s hand had been locked, and the robotic body was too heavy to move on his own, as the machine had originally been used to move construction material.

“I knew the guy who used the machine,” Gabriel said. “I walked by that thing almost every day on base.”

While you were waiting for a call or something to do, your son was trapped in a fiery building under the weight of a murderous robot next to the bodies of his friends.

He didn’t have fear in his voice when he spoke to you. He just told you everything. And you listened.

When he came home, you tried to ignore the two long scratches on his face. His handsome face that was too much like yours and now he had two scratches that just barely missed those eyes, which looked too much like his mother’s.

Bruises were dug into his neck, a few cuts from where skin had been pinched between metallic joints.

You placed both hands on his cheeks and pulled him close, wishing that you could wave a hand and heal the wounds.. He didn’t hug you with enthusiasm, just taking you forward. Now you were shorter, head in his shoulder as you shook.

He stood tall, rigid.

If only you’d read that determination as the vengeance that it was.

You’d received a visit from some army officials. They wanted to speak to Gabriel.

You were outraged when they tried to move their meeting out of the house. A drive to a local store to talk.

This was about  _ your son. _

You didn’t get to say anything though, as Gabriel placed a palm on your shoulder and said he wouldn’t be long.

This was about Gabriel.

So you let him go and, for the first time in a long time, you felt alone.

\--

It would be later when you found out just why they wanted to talk to him.

The only survivor of the German Raid. 

They wanted him to join a program, you didn’t get a name or any specifics.

When you began your small protest, Gabriel had already said, “I said yes.”

You bristled.

“No.”

He looked up at you.

“You can’t go back.”

His face softened.

Feelings from when he’d first revealed that he wanted to go to boot camp resurfaced as a million thoughts came rushing through your mind at once.

“Papá, they need me.”

“I need you too!”

Your shout surprised him as much as it did you, but you didn’t get more than a flinch out of him. He wasn’t going to back down.

“I made a promise to you, before I left,” Gabriel said. “I said I would come back.” He gestured his arms outward. “I did! I promise, I’ll never leave forever. I’ll always come back.”

“You don’t know that!” You laid your head on the table and began to cry into your hands. You felt older in that moment than you’d ever been. “Your mother always said the same thing. I told her every day that we would see each other again, and  _ look  _ what happened! Alica said she would be back, and I told her we’d eat dinner later and then she died not an hour later! No puedo- I can’t lose you!”

You had to stop yourself from slamming your head into the table.

Gabriel stood up and, for a moment, you thought he would leave the room. Let you cool off.

Instead, a pair of arms wrapped around you.

You had to lean down, as he was kneeling by your chair as he pulled you in close.

He would apologize again, right before he went off to his army program.

You weren’t permitted contact for a few weeks.

It almost killed you.

Then you received a call while you were working on making some coffee. You had some audits you had to finish filing. You almost dropped the pot when you saw a familiar area code requesting a video call.

You hit answer, and Gabriel was sitting there smiling.

“Hi!” he said.

“Gabriel! Oh Dios mio- Are you okay? What’s happened?”

“I’m fine,” he said. “Better than I’ve been in a little while. We were just permitted to use the computers.”

_ “Is that your dad?” _

“Who’s that?” you asked, moving your phone around, as if that would get you a picture of the stranger standing off-camera.

Gabriel rolled his eyes.

“Papá, I’d like you to meet Jack Morrison.”

A blonde man leaned into the shot with a confused expression.

“Uh, hello!”

Confusion turned into a bright smile as he greeted you, waving excitedly. His voice was dark and gravelly, betraying his sunny expression.

“Well, Mr. Reyes, I wouldn’t worry too much about your son. He’s taking care of himself. Amongst other people around here.”

“Yea, I had to pull this one out of a marsh the other day,” Gabriel said, shoving Jack out of the shot.

You chuckled, half-wishing it was just you and your son at the time. This was fine though, it was nice to see him smiling.

“So what is the program like?” you asked. “Is there a lot of training? They’re feeding you, right?”

“Jack’s been feeding us actually.”

He smiled proudly behind Gabriel.

You snickered.

“What can I say? I have younger siblings. When people are hungry, instincts kick in.”

“Mother bird instincts, you mean,” Gabriel groaned.

“Don’t be upset just because you can’t cook an omelette without it splitting on you!”

“Gabriel, I taught you better than that!” you said playfully..

“Heh, I guess it didn’t stick,” he said. “Don’t worry though, I’ve retained all of my knitting skills.”

“You can knit?” Jack asked.

“Where are you right now?” you asked.

“We can’t tell you,” Gabriel said. “But I can tell you that I’ll be calling a lot more. This computer is ancient, but it’s here to stay! It’s actually split between Jack and I. This is our dorm room. Here,” he stood and turned the monitor to show off the room.

Jack had moved over to sit on his bed, waving again at the camera.

“We’re two of the last people to have made it through the full program, so they decided to treat us a bit with hardwired computers for communication purposes only.”

“So we immediately fought over who gets to call home first,” Jack chuckled.

“I won,” Gabriel said, spinning the monitor back. He turned towards Jack. “And I’ll make sure to pester your mom as much as you did my dad!”

“Good luck!”

You both laughed, and Gabriel rolled his eyes.

“So what have you been up to?”

You didn’t have much to say, and Gabriel could never tell you much, but it was nice to share those calls. It was what got you through the day.

Eventually, the program had finished up and Gabriel revealed they’d have one week back home before it was back out into the fray.

You were anxious when your week together was up and, on the last night, you went out to dinner together. It wasn’t anything special. Just Denny’s.

When you got home, he joked about staying up to watch  _ High School Musical  _ together.

You laughed and said, “Never again, mijo!”

It was one week of normality before He was sent off to manage the Omnic Crisis. Daily calls were traded in for weekly ones. And then it was reduced to good night messages, if you even got that.

It was enough. You knew he was alive.


	5. Chapter 5

Ten years went by with your son at war.

He was the leader of it all. You never forgot that. Everywhere you went, people who knew him would greet you and remind you that your son was a hero.

You didn’t need some robot uprising to tell you that.

A few calls updated you on Gabriel’s life.

Jack had joined him as a super soldier in the core team. Along with them were three other members, all of which you got to meet in their own right.

Ana, who was actually taking care of a baby of her own, was introduced when Gabriel walked past her room, talking to you on video chat.

“Gabriel, tell a woman you’re recording before you go around with a camera.”

You chuckled at his expression. It was a mirror of the expression that he made when you used to scold him.

“Oh, what was that Ana? You want me to take the camera closer? Can do!”

“No!”

She shrieked and fell backwards, almost falling off the bed.

Her hair wasn’t combed, but she looked fine. Laughing along with Gabriel, she eventually looked at the phone camera, shooting it a fake pout and holding it before she turned to Gabriel.

“Aren’t you going to take a picture?”

“I’m on a video call with my father, see,” he pointed a finger at the screen, probably to where your camera was in the corner.

You waved somewhat sheepishly.

Her expression changed from playful to shock.

Then Gabriel was being ushered out of the room as she called over his shoulder, “It was nice to meet you, Mr. Reyes!”

You’d seen Reinhardt on the news reports. He was a veteran from Germany as well, and came off as a robust figure. You thought he’d be rather cold and stoic. Instead, you met him while he was holding Ana’s two year old in the air, babbling nonsense to her and laughing the whole way through.

“Reinhardt! Come on! My dad wants to see the angel!”

You had, but you didn’t ask him to immediately show off the little girl. You were fine with waiting for Reinhardt to finish his little plane game.

The man was tall and strong, but you could already tell that he was of a kind soul.

“Ah! The famous Mr. Reyes!” he said, holding Fareeha in front of him. She was upside down, which prompted Ana to shriek off-camera. He corrected her quickly, the baby girl laughing the entire time.

“Fly!” she said, bouncing in his hands.

You hadn’t laughed that hard in a long time.

Another video chat started as normal, Gabriel talking about the events of the day and walking around as he did so. That ended when he spontaneously fell, phone thudding on the ground.

“Torbjörn! Watch where you put your _fucking_ turrets!”

You couldn’t help but laugh. Gabriel didn’t swear a lot, and you’re not sure when he started openly swearing out of anger.

“If I don’t trip over them, then I don’t see why you do!”

“Not all of us are three feet tall and have them right in our face when we’re walking!”

“You wanna say that to my face!?”

“Gonna need a step ladder, shortie!”

Gabriel finally picked up the phone and showed a stubby man with a long beard.

“Dad, meet Overwatch’s pet cat.”

‘Ha! What are you trying to say you American dog!?”

They defused the situation quickly enough, Gabriel walking away with a laugh.

“Do you two always fight?” you asked.

“Nah, Torbjörn? He’s my best friend!”

Liao’s meeting was a bit more formal in a prerecorded message. They were sitting around a table, presumably eating lunch.

Gabriel was recording, sweeping from person to person as he said, “You’ve met the Overwatch Strike team before, but never like this. Here we have, Jack Morrison,”

Jack flexed and winked at the camera.

“Ana Amari,”

Ana flexed as well, shooting her hand up in a heroic pose.

“Reinhardt Wilhelm,”

Reinhardt did much of the same, throwing in a boisterous laugh.

“Torbjörn Lindholm,”

Torbjörn only glared at the camera, arms crossed as he straightened his back slowly.

“And now, for the first time, meet the infamous- Lioa!”

The camera panned over to a small person with white hair held back in a black headband, a fry almost in their mouth before they looked at the camera and stuck their tongue out with a small noise of “plep.”

The table roared with laughter, which was cut off at the end.

You didn’t stop laughing then though, peacefully trailing off before you turned off your phone and got back to work.

There were scary moments when you heard that “the first strike team” was moving southward. You almost lost it when one of them was confirmed dead. This team, all of which you were eager to formally meet in person, was already so precious to you. You still can’t believe how much you actually hoped it was someone else- anyone other than Gabriel.

As it turned out, Liao had sacrificed themselves to the God Programs in Anubis.

You weren’t filled in entirely when Gabriel called you- only voice, no video- to tell you that they’d made it out, and left a friend behind.

It was a month after what happened in Anubis when the war began turning for the better. After Liao’s death, apparently, they’d uncovered a file inside one of their computers. Liao’s last download of an omnic schematic. It would allow the God Programs to be locked away forever.

After the locking away of the primary programs, Liao’s true sacrifice was released. They were a hero.

In the end, it was all for peace. You knew about the war coming to a close in a much more special way than some press conference.

Two months after the final battle, omnics were slowing down in their assault of humanity.

Two months and Gabriel came home.

He almost knocked you over with how hard he hugged you. This time, he came home triumphant. He’d won, and was proud of what he’d done. You were proud too, but for a different reason. Your son was a hero to the world, yes, and he was revered by many, but he was also safe. He kept his promise. He came home.

Now he was verging on his early thirties, and you were together again.

It was more or less just the two of you this time around, and you couldn’t be happier. That was when news began leaking about the true purpose behind the birth of the Strike Team.

Reinhardt’s strength enhancing suit, Torbjorn’s internal furnace, and even Ana’s cybernetic eye were all leaked to the public.

Then images started surfacing regarding the remaining two members.

Speculation regarding any enhancements of your son began to surface, and you almost laughed off the possibility.

Then he came to you with a guilty expression.

You’d flicked on the news, about to shut it off when you saw it was more of that chatter.

“Can you believe this?” you asked.

“Well, they’re not wrong,” he said, moving closer into the living room.

You blinked. “Oh?”

There wasn’t anything else you could say. You wanted to know what it was, of course, but you couldn’t find a proper way to ask, “What did they do to you?” without panicking.

He only smiled and peaked at the living room window, pulling the drapes shut. You thought the move was uncharacteristically paranoid, considering it was your backyard, but it only scared you.

You honestly didn’t know what to expect.

Part of you thought to the Hulk and then you quickly dismissed that. Your son wasn’t a monster.

Then he took a breath and you could see something like an energy crackling off of him before he melted into a smokey shape, moving about three feet away before reforming again.

He let out a breath once it was done, looking to you with a sheepish smile.

“So, what d’you think?”

You blinked, looking at the spot where he once was.

“How… How did you...?”

“It was the program,” Gabriel said. “They did stuff to Jack and I.” He looked at his hands. “It was called the Soldier Enhancement Program.”

You nodded loosely.

“So, Jack can do that too?”

“No,” he said. “It was meant to stimulate a mutation inside someone’s body based off of their DNA. I can’t remember a lot of the technical stuff, but everyone got something different.” He laughed. “Jack thought he got the shallow end with super speed and stamina, but I don’t know. Running a mile sounds better than pulling yourself apart.”

“Does it hurt?” you asked, flinching forward.

You must have looked scared because he quickly said, “No,” which was a lie. “I can’t hold it for too long, though. It’s complicated.”

You nodded and looked down. “Too complicated for me?”

“No, it’s just…” he trailed off and let out a frustrated breath. “Nevermind. I get it. It’s probably a lot to take in- I know… it’s just...  Papá, are you okay?”

You looked up, seeing his eyes wide and fearful and you’re ashamed to say that you put that fear there. It was a fear of rejection.

Quickly, you pushed away every thought of fear and every frustration at your lack of understanding, instead, you put on a smile.

“I’m fine. It’s just not in every day you learn that your son is a super hero!”

His fear turned to surprise.

“Are you sure you’re okay.”

“Mijo, I love you in every form you take. Whether that be a man or a cloud.”

He laughed, though it was empty.

“I know that- and I love you too, Papá- but-”

“Then there’s nothing else to talk about.” You smiled. “You’re my son, and a soldier, and I understand if you don’t want anyone finding out about this. I’m glad that you told me, but I won’t look at you any different. You’re still my son.”

He gave a real smile this time and you hugged. Over his shoulder, you looked at the shelf that poised a picture of Silvia. Distantly, you wondered what she would have thought about this.

You thought that a lot over the ten years, but it was in that moment that the reassuring thoughts of “She wouldn’t have stopped him,” turned into, “She wouldn’t have let them do this to him.”

“She wouldn’t have let your son become an experiment.”

It was a few weeks after that that Gabriel both received a message from Jack inviting the two of you to Bloomington, Indiana. You asked what it was for, only to have him say that he and Jack had a surprise.

You thought you had a good idea of what was going on.

You and Gabriel were to be staying in a small Inn a little bit away from Jack’s farm. The boy had a farm of all things. He was polite and picked you both up from the airport. He offered you the front seat, but you declined, allowing Gabriel to take the front.

Seeing them in the front, talking together and laughing together, you were reminded of another time you saw Gabriel in the car with a boy. You were the one driving, and they were the ones in the back.

You smiled.

When you reached the house, you were surprised to see Gabriel grabbing his suitcases and Jack fishing yours out of the trunk.

“I thought we were staying at an Inn.”

“Huh?” Jack tilted his head. “No way! My ma’ would kill me if I had you guys stay out of the house. Farm-charm, hospitality comes as part of the package.”

He smiled and hefted the luggage onto his shoulder with ease.

You looked at Gabriel, who gave you a sly smirk.

Lying to get you out of a comfort zone.

So he _was_ his mother’s son.

You didn’t mind staying at the Morrison house.

You’d heard a lot about Jack’s mother, but never anything about his father.

Well, that question would be answered when the door opened and a pair of women greeted you at the door.

“Ah! Gabriel!” The darker woman said, reaching out and grabbing your son to pull him in for a hug. “It’s so good to meet you in person!”

The blonde woman, who was quite built into a muscular frame chuckled and offered a hand to you. “And you must be Mr. Reyes. Pleasure to meet you.”

You shook her hand with a nod and a smile. “It’s good to meet you as well. Of course, you can call me Miguel.”

“Of course!” she said. “And my name’s Helen,” she wrapped a hand around her wife’s waist, “and this is Linda.”

“Welcome to Indiana!” Linda said, clapping her hands together. “Come on in!”

Helen stopped and turned to Jack. “Jack, did you get Mr. Reyes’s bags?”

“Of course, ma’,” he said, a slight drawl when he addressed his mother.

“Don’t of course me,” she said playfully before coming forward and holding out her hand, “now come on inside!”

Your stay in Indiana was nice.

You and Gabriel shared a room, and he didn’t seem to mind. You didn’t either, it was nice to spend that time together. Of course, your favorite part of the stay had to come with visiting the rest of Jack’s family.

One thing you always wanted was a house full of children. It was how you grew up, and how you’d originally intended to raise your own children. Gabriel was enough, and you wouldn’t give him up for all of the children in the world, but it would have been nice to have maybe one or two more little ones in the house.

That dream was finally realized upon meeting Joanne and her children. And Luke and his children. And Kimberly and her sons.

Apparently, Jack was one of six adopted children in the Morrison household, and his three older siblings had already had their own young families. The other two, Dakota and Alice, hadn’t gotten to that point quite yet, but it seemed that the others already had enough for the family.

Joanne had two girlfriends, both of which you always confused for the other, who helped her take care of her children, but Luke had a nuclear family of himself a wife and his boy and girl. Kimberly was on her own and lived on the farm with her mothers and two boys, helping out with the chores.

All were adopted into their respective households, aside from Kimberly’s twin boys. They were, in order of age, Joanne’s Daphne, then Luke brought in Kenny and Penny, Joanne with Kathy, and then Kimberly came along with Joey and Linus. Finally, Joanne had the little Bay. He was still small when you met him the first time around. What are you kidding- they were all small.

Gabriel confided to you later that he’d learned about Jack’s extensive family shortly before he was required to meet all of them later through video chat.

Apparently, he had an accordian wallet of their pictures. Who even needed a wallet in this day and age was beyond you, especially when it came to keeping pictures that could have been kept on a phone. Apparently, the Morrisons were an old fashioned house.

You spent most of your time with the young ones, Daphne watching you like a hawk until Joanne pinched her cheek and demanded that she stop making a sour expression.

Eventually, you won most of the kids over with you being the central grandfather of the group. You and Helen got along well, though she was surprised to find your true age was fifty-three.

Linda almost dropped the jug she was holding at the time.

They were a decade older than you at sixty-two. Still, for the first time in a long time, you’d found friends of your own generation.

They knew just as well as you did about the relationship between your sons. That was fine, you were ready any minute for the announcement that they were in a relationship. What you weren’t ready for was for the two of them to pull their dog tags out of the collars of their shirts, where they were kept under their clothes. Attached to them were two matching silver bands.

They weren’t just announcing a relationship, they were announcing engagement.

“We wanted you to be the first to know,” Jack said.

Gabriel turned to you, Helen, and Linda, an off grin on his face.

“We’ve been together for a long time,” he said. “And, to be entirely honest, we’ve been ‘engaged’ for a few months.”

“But,” Jack cut in, “We just got the rings yesterday. We just, wanted to make sure that you-”

He was cut off as Linda let out a wail and threw herself onto her son in a strong hug. The normally quiet woman proved to be quite loud at the moment. Helen’s own chuckle was heard just under the squawks and cries that erupted from Linda as she congratulated the both of them eventually bringing Gabriel over and capturing them both in a strangling hug.

Once they were released, Helen patted them both on the back.

“Jeeze, Jack, a little warning would be nice,” she said, eyes glimmering with pride.

Next, it was your turn to stand up and quietly walk over, arms poised behind your back.

Jack stilled, mouth drawn into a straight line as he watched you approach.

You kept up a demeanor of undetermined hostility, putting Jack even more on edge as his eyes darted away from you to Gabriel and then back to you.

“So, you two are getting married without properly telling me about your relationship?”

Gabriel stiffened. “Things got busy,” he admitted. “But I made sure that you got to know Jack, even if you didn’t know about us, right?”

You chuckled.

“Of course I knew,” you said as you wrapped your arms around both of them.

Your son was a horrible liar, and now you had two sons were terrible at keeping secrets.

In the months leading up to the wedding- which was going to be in a catholic church, you were going to figure all of this out of it was the last thing you did- the two had to go back to their job in Overwatch. Of course, now things were running a bit differently. What started as a small team of six designed to oversee the surrounding army had grown into an army of its own.

An army of nations.

Blackwatch was created as a separate branch, and JAck was to fill Gabriel’s spot as leader of Overwatch while Gabriel watched over the birth of a stealth-ops. The two never saw one as being higher than the other, though many would have seen overwatch as the head of Blackwatch’s operations. They ran together, on equal grounds. Blackwatch had their orders, and Overwatch had theirs.

Either way,  they were a bit closer to home, stationed in southern Nevada.

You were even allowed to visit the base from time to time, though it wan’t too often. They weren’t prisoners, and would even come out to see you. Your kitchen table you sometimes found too empty soon had to be crowded with the extra chairs from the garage as you found your home filled with laughter and music and the sound of cars slapping against the table in another game of poker.

They were good clean evenings, in which you got to embarrass your son with tales from his youth while pestering him about grandchildren. The war was over, and you had your normalcy.

One particular weekend, you found Jack and Gabriel coming over on their own. It was rare that you got only your son for a whole week end, but he made a point to spend as much time with you as possible.

Anyway, upon them stepping out of the car, you proceeded to ask , “¿Tienen hambre?”

It was supposed to be a joke, as Gabriel still refused to learn the language. You really should have raised him into it, if you were honest with yourself.

He opened his mouth with a mock-annoyed expression, probably to “remind” you that he didn’t know what you were saying.

That was when Jack cut him off with, “We’re good. We stopped for a couple burgers on the way out here.”

You smiled immediately while Gabriel looked at him quickly.

“¿Hablas español?” you asked.

“Sì,” Jack said. “My mom is tri-lingual, and Dakota is Mexican, so she wanted them to keep their heritage. She thought the best way to do that was talking in spanish around the house when we were all little.”

You smiled a bit wider.

“Well, the more you know,” you said, still not quite over Gabriel’s expression of pleasant shock as Jack nodded and picked up both his and Gabriel’s bags.

“I’m gonna take these inside.”

As soon as he disappeared inside, you leaned over to Gabriel.

“See? White boy knows spanish.”

You never let him live that one down.

The only other thing you pestered him about more than his spanish, was your need for grandchildren.

That only got worse after the wedding- and yes it was held in a church.

Your family was even able to come up. Mostly just the core family though. Your brother, sister, and of course your mother and father. Gabriel’s great aunt even made the trip.

It was wonderful, though you were put off when Gabriel turned to you, minutes before the ceremony, and a sad look came over his face.

“Dad, I’m sorry,” he said. “I couldn’t keep my promise to you.”

You raised a brow and shifted your jaw.

“Eh? What are you talking about, mijo?”

He laughed. “Your ground rules. We’re in a church- but neither of us are walking down the aisle and Jack doesn’t have a dad.”

You laughed along with him, remembering the old conversation. It was at that moment that you looked your son over. From a baby you only saw through a video call to a scrappy child with big dreams and finally a man who was working on a goatee of all things.

It made you proud.

Then you saw the scars that were left on his cheek.

It made you scared.

But that’s what growing up is all about from a parent’s perspective.

You brought him in and hugged him tight around the shoulders.

He hugged you back and you just had a moment. It wasn’t a hug of relief or desperation, but instead one of comfort.

And when you watched your son marry Jack Morrison, you felt nothing but that same comfort resting in your heart.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone is confused:  
> Miguel is asking Gabriel and Jack "¿Tienen hambre?" or, "Are [either of] you hungry?" If you plug this phrase into google translate, you'll get "Are they hungry?" which is not incorrect. In fact, if I was to be entirely grammatically correct, I would have typed "¿Tenéis hambre?" which is "Are either of you hungry?" the only problem with this is that this is really only used in Spain with the pronoun "vosotros." Seeing that Miguel is Mexican, that wouldn't be the case.  
> Think about the difference between "British-English" and "American-English."  
> Other fun things about how Miguel talks:  
> He uses "Sandwich" instead of "emparedado," which his dad doesn't like because "Spanglish is a mistake," but Miguel is young and hip and doesn't care about the rules. *insert picture of him on a skateboard*  
> ((Speaking about inserting pictures, I've been thinking of doing illustrations to go along with this fic, but I'm not sure. Opinions? Yay? Nay?))


	6. Chapter 6

Some time after, you drove up to Nevada to visit the base. You weren’t staying on location, of course, but contrary to popularly to belief, there are towns around bases that are more than accommodating to travelers such as yourself. In other words, there’s always a welcome motel.

When you showed up on base, you were immediately directed to the Blackwatch quarters.

You smiled upon seeing Gabriel, arms crossed and back straight. You thought he was off that day, and the soldiers who greeted you said the same. The answer to why he was so poised was revealed when you continued walking around the corner only to see a young boy wearing a cowboy hat.

You’d heard about Jesse McCree before. A straggler picked up from the Deadlock gang and given a second chance at Overwatch.

The story was heartwarming enough, and then there was the way Gabriel talked about him. He was as much a nuisance who brought aggravation as a pupil who made Gabriel proud.

The boy scampered off in a formal gate. Running laps.

You smiled, straightening your posture as he ran past you and shooting him a half-glare.

He made a face back as you strode past him. And walked towards Gabriel.

He grinned as soon as Jesse couldn’t see him any more and immediately pulled you into a half hug.

“Dad, you didn’t tell me you were coming out today.”

“Why else would I ask if you had the day off?” you asked with a laugh. You looked to where the boy had disappeared and said, “So that was Jesse.”

“How could you tell?” Gabriel asked.

“Mostly the hat. You weren’t kidding about that?”

He snickered. “I wish. So, how has it been back home?”

“You ask every time and I give you the same answer.”

“I know, maybe I’m just hoping it’ll change,” he said. “Maybe you’ll tell me that you found someone nice at the local bingo tournament.”

“Oh  _ ha,” _ you said, shoving him lightly.

You talked a bit longer and then he stiffened again, seeing Jesse turn the corner.

“Hey! McCree, get over here.”

The kid walked over, eyes flicking over to you anxiously as you straightened out your back again.

“I’d like you to meet my father.”

His eyes turned from cautious speculation to direct fear.

You were still two inches taller than your son, putting you four inches over Jesse when standing up.

“Uh,” he stood up. “Hello Mr. Sr. Reyes Sir!”

You had to resist the urge to snort.

Instead, you kept up your rough demeanor and raised a brow.

“‘Mr. Sr. Reyes Sir?’” You turned to Gabriel. “That’s a new one.” You looked back down to Jesse. “Do you think that’s the proper way to greet the father of your senior officer?”

He gulped.

“You will not call me, ‘Mr. Sr. Reyes Sir.’ When I am on this base, you will refer to me as,” a smile broke out over your face, “Abuelito! Now get over here.”

Jesse jumped as you placed a palm on his back.

“Oh- sorry, nietito. I couldn’t resist when you were walking around like a scolded cat.”

A frown appeared on his face.

“I’m not your grandson.”

“Oh! Another one that speaks spanish!” You looked at Gabriel. “You’re keeping this one.”

“I’m Mexican,” he said in a whisper. An enlightened look overcame his face as he turned towards Gabriel. “Wait, Jefe, you can’t speak spanish?”

“Not everyone can speak spanish, okay?” he said. “Now get back to running laps.”

You didn’t miss the mischievous look on his face as Jesse scampered off again, tipping his hat to you both.

You wouldn’t understand what was going on in that boy’s head until Gabriel called you a few days later to ask you what “pendejo” meant.

That turned out to be the tamest of the boy’s mouth.

Some memorable calls from Gabriel include:

“I think he just said he was my son, or he was talking about you. It was something about ‘Mijo’ and a pupa or something. Dad? Why are you laughing?”

“I thought he said cariño at first, but Jack started laughing after he said it, and he won’t tell me what it means, so I don’t think it was that. Huh? Yea it might have had a ‘b’ in it. Cabron? Sounds right- what does it mean?”

“I looked up ‘coño’ in google translate, and all that comes up is cone but I know that’s not it because the fucker smiled after he said it.

Pretty soon, he just started reprimanding him for calling anyone anything in spanish.

It was honestly as close as you thought you were going to get to having a grandchild. He, Fareeha, and later a darling girl named Angela were basically family to you.

The entire team welcomed you with open arms and big hearts that you gladly returned tenfold.

Still, nothing would compare to the joy you felt when Gabriel and Jack finally came to you with the knowledge that they wanted to adopt.

You were immediately excited, pouncing on the opportunity.

They said nothing was definitive, but you were already excited for them.

You were even more excited when you were introduced to little Ezekiel “Zeke” Morrison-Reyes.

You smiled when you saw the name, though he was already four when he was adopted.

“I saw the name on the list of matches,” Gabriel said, “and I just knew.”

It took a while for it to be official, but the little boy took fine to his new world.

Like most army bases, there was a civilian section for families. It was where Ana stayed and, now, Jack and Gabriel had one with their son. You were happy for them.

This was the highest point in your collective lives as a family.

You still remember greeting the youngster, leaning down with a somewhat sheepish wave.

“Hello.”

“Hi,” he said. He looked up to Gabriel and asked, “Is he another dad?”

Gabriel immediately looked in distress while you just laughed.

“No, no, I’m your grandfather,” you said slowly. “It’s very nice to meet you, Zeke.”

He pursed his lips and tilted his head. “Grandfather?”

You nodded. “That means I’m your dad’s dad. You can call me Abuelito, if you’d like.”

He pursed his lips again, probably running his tongue over the area where he was missing a tooth.

“Okay, Abuelito.”

You gave a wide smile.

Then Zeke leaned over to Gabriel and asked, “Why is he crying?”

Which prompted you to laugh as you wiped your face. He was right. When did you stop noticing when you were crying?

You immediately called your family when the adoption went through to officially announce to your parents that they had a great-grandchild.

They immediately wanted Gabriel to come down and showcase Zeke himself, along with Jack of course. There was some talk of a gang springing up in Mexico after the Omnic Crisis, leaving this as the perfect opportunity for a trip south. Though Jack wasn’t able to make it, it would still be nice. You actually got there earlier than Gabriel and Zeke, as you didn’t travel together.

Your family basically tackled you as you came through the door. They’d been up to visit very little in Gabriel’s childhood, and you hadn’t come back to Mexico at all. The friendly, familiar faces that greeted you were full of energy that had only built up over years of waiting.

Your mother was easily the most excited, almost picking you off of the ground with all four and a half feet of her body. 

Okay, she wasn’t that short.

It was still obvious that you’d inherited all of your height from your tower of a father.

Raphael Reyes was a large man  with dark, warm eyes that you remember quite well. He would pass away a few weeks after you came down to visit, leaving your second visit to Mexico after you’d moved so far away to attend a funeral.

Oddly enough, that was one of the easier losses in your life.

He’d lived a long, happy life full of all of the adventure and warmth any man could ask for. You admired your father, and still do.

For the moment, he was still there with you and your family, ready to greet Gabriel into a home he’d never seen, much less set foot into.

When there was a knock on the door, your aunt was the one to open it and find Gabriel leaning down to hold Zeke’s hand as he guided him into the house.

Zeke looked around in a state of awe at the people around him.

“Ah! Mi primo y mi sobrinito en la misma casa!” one of your nieces cried and she ran over to slam her arms around Gabriel. “¡Es un  _ milagro!” _

“Uh, good to see you too, Juana,” Gabriel said as he hugged her back.

“That isn’t what I said,” she said as she pulled away. Then she turned her gaze on Zeke. “And how is my little sobrinito?”

You laughed at the redundancy. Such an excitable girl.

“You know, Juana, he’s technically your cousin once removed, not your nephew,” your mother said.

“He’s adorable is what he is!” Juana said. “Come on, niño, ¿Cómo te llamas?”

You laughed a little as you watched the scene unfolding.

Gabriel looked down at Zeke as Zeke looked up at him.

He didn’t even know “What’s your name?” in Spanish.

You failed as a father.

“She’s asking your name, niño!” one of your cousins yelled from the back, spurring on a few chuckles.

The little boy looked over the crowd before looking back at Juana.

“I- I’m Zeke,” he held out a tiny hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Juana smiled and said, “Igualmente, mijo. More than you know! It’s about time your papa had a family of his own.”

“Papa couldn’t come down. This is my dad,” he said, a hand coming up to Gabriel’s pantleg.

Gabriel chuckled. “She’s talking about me, mijo.”

Your heart stopped at hearing him say that word. You’d never heard it before. Not in address of your grandson or otherwise, you’d never heard Gabriel say the word before. It seemed to make things a bit more real.

“¡Oi, hermano!” Your brother bumped your arm and drew attention to him. “What’s with the waterworks?”

You stiffened and wiped at your face.

“It’s nothing.”

It wasn’t nothing.

It was everything to you that so much of your family was gathered here together, welcoming in a new generation.

The moment was ruined of course when you heard your mother shout, “Ah! So he  _ can  _ speak spanish! Amazing! I thought you were allergic to it with how much you’re putting off learning it.”

Gabriel looked at her with a tired smile. “Abuela, please-”

“He did it again! I have never been so sure of a God!”

And so the weekend was a mix of well-meant jabs at one another and a bundle of adventures and memories. You’re proud to say that you made Zeke’s first empanada in that weekend, even if your father told him his first “Family Fable.” It was the more adventurous one about a beyond distant grandfather of yours who cursed the family by tricking a French magician. The last time you heard the story, it was a half-lemhi shoshone indian half-french medicine woman. According to your cousin, Her father told it as a cherokee woman who the great relative actually helped. Your mother heard the story from your grandfather as an entire tribe.

You have such a creative family, to say the least.

Gabriel had work to do while down in Mexico, but made a point of being involved in every activity he partook in. It was nice to spend some time together.

Even after Gabriel and Zeke went back up north, you took some time to linger. Finally, it was time to move back up north. You definitely didn’t smuggle out any of your family’s home-made jelly without having it inspected. That would have been against the law.

If you had, you would have taken three jars and it would have been worth it. It’s not as though it would have hurt anyone, if you had, and you’re certain the team would have appreciated it when they came down to visit, and you would have made sure to send a jar to the Morrisons.

Criminal escapades that you totally didn’t partake in aside, a long period of growth followed that trip out. You remember weekends were Zeke would be left in your care while Jack and Gabriel were on separate or dangerous missions.

They could never tell you where they were going, but sometimes they would leave small hints.

Gabriel might say something like, “No, dad, I can’t tell you this time either. Oh, but do you want me to grab some wine on the way over?”

Spain is the wine capital.

Or Jack might tack on, “Yea we were thinking of visiting of picking up some perfume for Ana.”

Somewhere in northwestern europe- probably France.

It was a good system, and one that saved you a lot of heartache about wondering where they were.

Zeke didn’t seem to care. He was still in that stage where every boy thinks that their parents are untouchable superheroes. For him, that was basically a reality.

Two of the world’s most powerful military leaders who were the driving force of the group that stopped what had to be the greatest threat the world had collectively faced, and he knew them as his fathers. 

He grew up a loved child.

There was one week that he spent at your house when Jack went up to Poland for a conference. It was something about talking over some of the more personalized details of Overwatch’s mission plan- a lot of political stuff you wouldn’t even  _ pretend  _ to know anything about when Gabriel was trying to explain it to you. Then Gabriel himself was going to be completing some work in Nepal. It was regarding the war in Russia, which still went on regardless of the peace between Omnics and the rest of the world.

You knew that “Peace” wasn’t really true- after all, the governments of the world could say whatever they wanted, but that wouldn’t stop the bad blood and bolts from boiling over.

That was beside the point though.

You had your grandson for one  _ fantastic  _ week.

Contrary to popular belief, he did stay with his grandmothers on occasion. That didn’t stop you from being closer, more accessible, and also more than willing to take on the extra time.

Gabriel was coming back to pick him up one time in the early hours of the morning. He was originally going to stay the night and leave in the morning but, as things were, there were plans on base that required his attentions, but Zeke wanted to come home.

When he came to the door, sweeping Zeke into his arms, he looked tired. It could have been the light, or it just being so late, but there was something about the way that he looked through you.

“What’s wrong, Gabriel?” you asked, bringing a hand up to his face. “You look so tired.”

His face pulled down into a stoic expression for only a moment before he smiled and adjusted his hold on Zeke. “It was just the flight. I’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” you gave a nod. “If you’re sure you’re okay to drive.

“I’ll be fine. Thank you for watching him.”

“It’s no trouble. We had plenty of fun- ¿Verdad, mi nietito?”

“Si,” Zeke said before he laid his head on Gabriel’s shoulder. He looked tired too, though he appeared more so blissfully sated than exhausted.

“Oh, great, another one that knows Spanish,” Gabriel grumbled with a smile on his face.

“Consider this your push,” you said, pointing a finger at him.

Gabriel smiled again and hugged you, spurring on Zeke to wake up enough to hug you too.

“Come on, mijo, hug your abuelo goodbye.”

“But we were gonna have pancakes tomorrow.” against his own words, Zeke fell into your shoulder with a warm hug. “Hasta luego, abuelito.”

“Adios,” you said, hugging them both tightly before they left.

Most of the time, when Zeke came over, it lasted a few days- three at most.

It would be a long time before you got another week like that.

And honestly?

You regret the events that put that week into place with all of your heart.

It started with leaks of information that trickled through Overwatch’s system- information about certain equipment and less-than-moral uses. Mission plans with gruesome detailings and dealings that held some sketchy counterparts.

News reports of an anonymous reporter who had managed to air out all Overwatch’s dirty laundry overnight. 

You didn’t believe a word of it, brushing it off someone with too much time on their hands who needed the extra money.

And then you received a call from your friend Samuel. He told you to turn on the news.

You hung up before you turned on the TV. You couldn’t understand why he was so insistent.

Then you saw the report.

“-er of Blackwatch, Gabriel Reyes, may be less human than we originally thought. Images and reports are surfacing regarding a condition that the good commander we know and love from the Omnic crisis may possess that allows him to degenerate and regenerate his cells at rapid rates.”

Your blood chilled.

How did they know that?

“Consider this video filmed by a friendly field officer’s visor during the Omnic Crisis not long ago.”

The screen clipped to a video of a younger Gabriel, two shotguns at his side as he faced a large bipedal omnic.

It snapped its claw-like hands as it moved closer. Before it grabbed him, Gabriel dodged back before turning into his smoke-like form and misting behind the robot. He fired off two rounds into its back, moving underneath and suddenly appearing on top of it before blowing off its head, leaving it to stumble and fall to the ground.

You couldn’t see his face, but it was obvious from the uniform, to the build, to that stupid beanie he never seemed to take off. It was him.

It went back to the reporter.

He shook his head and said, “To think that something like this has been leading a half of the world’s most influential and powerful armies in the world. It’s certainly a startling development. We’ll follow up on this with more reports on bodies found on the battlefield of past overwatch conflicts. Other incidents with Gabriel Reyes may link him to-”

You shut it off.

You had half a mind to unplug the TV.

How  _ dare _ they talk about him like that?

He was a man- a husband, a father, a friend, and a  _ son-  _ not a monster.

“Some _ thing _ like this-”

No.

Forget that.

He was a man who did what he had to do when faced with a larger threat. That omnic would have killed him and who knows who else. He did what was right.

The leaks continued, growing nastier and nastier as time went on.

Finally, the source was found. The reporter who had remained anonymous.

A Polish woman.

You found out through a press release. You’d heard that Jack was going to be doing an official release on the information that had been coming to light and decided, against your better judgement, to tune in.

He talked about how the woman had managed to gain access to his computer.

Which he’d had in his hotel room.

When he let her in.

Your stomach curled.

He’d confessed to an affair.

He’d confessed on international television to an affair.

It wasn’t like there hadn’t been buzzings about it before from a variety of sources. Tabloids talking about recruits who had progressed in rank, prostitutes revealing the thrilling tales of their nights with Strike-Commander Morrison- all of it more information you’d only passed off as souls desperate for attention.

Gabriel called a few days later. He and Jack had been in New York, where the Press release was held.

Apparently, Zeke had seen the beginning of the release. As of yet, he still didn’t know about the full situation.

He was eleven though.

And he was smart.

He could figure it out.

That scared you.

He wanted to bring Zeke down, out of New York. Just to get him out of the heat and tension that was pulling in the heart of the drama that consumed the world.

People were against Overwatch and Blackwatch alike, and all Jack had really done by revealing the source of the information was prove it all to be true. Granted, people were already speculating the more that came out, but it was the final nail in the coffin.

Now there was a target on your son’s back.

Super soldier or not, you were going to kill the man.

Then you saw the look on Gabriel’s face when he dropped Zeke off. It was dark, and an echo of that same tired expression from when he’d last been over to pick him up.

Zeke didn’t run over to you.

He was too big for your weak, old arms to pick up at this point, but he didn’t even look happy to be with you. Instead, went on to Gabriel’s old room- the room where he stayed when he came to visit- with a quiet demeanor. He was affected as deeply as everyone in this, and he didn’t even know what was going on.

It made you sick.

Still, you tried to smile, but you knew your eyes weren’t really into it.

“Come on inside,” you said.

Gabriel sniffed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “No. I- uh- I have some stuff to do. There’s a lot of stuff going on at Blackwatch right now and I need to get on top of that. We have a movement out with Overwatch in a few weeks. We need to get ready for that.”

“Mijo,” you said. When you reached for his face, he flinched away. Then you set your hand on his arm instead. “He has no idea just how much  _ shit  _ he’s in.”

His face flicked up to see yours.

You knew you were crying, but you also knew that this was probably the first time he’d ever seen you truly angry.

“I promise you, Gabriel. You’ll figure all of this out. If you forgive him, I’ll stand by you. But if you leave him, just know that I’ll be here for you. I’m always on your side, through all of this. The news, the public….”

He lowered his head and finished, “Jack.”

“Even through that,” you said, “I’ll be here for you. I always was, and always will be.”

He smiled a small smile and wrapped his arms around your shoulders. You buried your face in his neck, cold from the impending chill of winter, and were reminded of a summer not too long ago when you hugged your son on his way up to Europe for an army he didn’t believe in.

This time, you had a grandson at your side to entertain for those painful three weeks that Gabriel wouldn’t be over.

He’d wanted some time to himself, and then you took him up to a park for some time to play outside. He wasn’t small, he could have gone on his own, but you’d already been approached by a few reporters. You didn’t need him hearing about any of this from someone looking for a good story.

That was when you noticed a familiar figure standing along the edge of the park.

He was wearing a hat, but it didn’t do anything to hide the greying blonde hair.

You stood immediately, noticing that Zeke was too enraptured in a game of one on one with another boy to notice.

Crossing the park, he flinched when he noticed you.

You were glaring. Harshly. It felt as out of place as anything could be, as if you were wearing a mask, but it also felt natural in a way.

“You need to go,” you said.  _ “Now.” _

Jack faltered, and he made a slight grimace before he stared past you at Zeke. “I uh, thought Gabriel might bring him to you. That’s good. Get’s him out of the spotlight. We never wanted the press to talk to him about anything, especially not this.”

You crossed your arms as your expression softened. “Why are you here?”

“I wanted to see my son. Just for a minute. I wanted the chance to explain myself-”

“You and Gabriel can do that together- later. Right now, he doesn’t need any of this,” you said.

It was the wrong thing to do. You know that now.

“He’s my son too, Miguel,” he said. “Please, just let me see him.”

“Jack,” you barked, “Do you know what you’ve done? You’ve torn your own family apart.”

“I didn’t  _ want  _ this,” he said. “I just- while I was in Poland, it was so long. It isn’t an excuse, but I was tired. A few of the other guys had this place they wanted to go to- ugh, it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters now. Just, please, a few minutes. I won’t even talk to him about it but- please, it will be three  _ weeks  _ without seeing or talking to him. Please.”

Your eyes narrowed harshly.

You’re not sure what you would have said if the situation had remained with you in control, but then you heard a voice behind you say, “Pop?”

Zeke moved from behind you as Jack made an uneasy smile.

“Hey, buddy,” he said, stooping to one knee so that he could pull Zeke close. “How’s my little soldier?”

Zeke pulled back with a smile. “Is dad here, too?”

Your heart nearly shattered at the way Jack’s face twitched into a painful expression.

“Ah, no. He- He’s back at Blackwatch with Jesse.” He smiled and pushed Zeke’s spiky bangs out of his face. “You’re gonna be staying here for a little bit, okay?”

He nodded, and the smile fell. “Oh. Okay.”

“I just wanted to see you before I left. Um, your dad or I are going to be back to pick you up, but it might be a few weeks. Okay?”

He nodded again. “Okay. You promise you’ll be back though?”

“I promise. I’m never going to leave you alone again. Now come on, give me a big ol’ bear hug.”

Zeke smiled at that, crashing his arms around Jack’s neck.

Jack hugged him back full-force. You shared a look and, for a moment, you pitied him. 

He looked so much older.

When he stood with a groan, he kissed his son on the cheek and ruffled his hair.

“See you around, kiddo.” He looked up to you with a vacant smile. “You too, Miguel.”

You returned his departure with a nod and a face pulled into a tight stoic expression.

It was your way of a silent promise that you wouldn’t let him find out. You wouldn’t let him know that his father was a whore.

You bite your tongue.

That was a rude thought.

You have never been a big fan of those kinds of thoughts. Even in secret, you didn’t keep an eye on the news. Your friends who were more than buzzing with the greedy tabloids had more than kept their mouths shut around you, but that was fine.

It was when you and Zeke were heckled on the way home from a local pizza shop that you drew the line.

“Miguel Reyes! Sir!” a voice called out.

You didn’t know the man, nor do you remember the title he gave you.

“You are Miguel Reyes, correct? Father of Gabriel Reyes?”

“I’m not here to talk to you,” you said, smiling to the man as kindly as you could as you continued on your way home. “Have a good day.”

“Sir, please!” He noticed Zeke. “Oh, why hello there.” He held out a hand. “You’re Ezekiel right? Ezekiel Morrison-Reyes?”

He shifted his eyes up to you, an uneasy expression on his face.

Smart kid.

“Yeah. It’s Zeke. Come on, Abuelito, let’s go,” he said, walking ahead of you but close. It was as if he was afraid that the reporter would attack you both.

You weren’t much better, taking the flap of your coat out to cover him from any cameras he may have had on his person. Cameras were so sneaky nowadays. You weren’t too obvious, just pushing out your pocket to make yourself a bit bigger. Anything would do.

“Come on sir, we were just wondering with the upcoming holidays if maybe the good commanders would be coming home to the US.”

“I suppose that’s up to their family to know,” you said, raising the corners of your lips as you shrugged the man off and looked forward. “Certainly not for a man who hides behind a keyboard to worry about.”

That stunned him long enough to get back to your house.

All of the energy and strength that you had summoned in that moment fade away and you looked down to your grandson with a vacant expression. Then you smiled.

“You know, Zeke, I’m getting a bit old. I’m gonna need some lively hands to help with decorating this year. Want to help me get a jump on Thanksgiving decorations?”

He smiled.

“Sure thing!”

And you both decorated for the loneliest Thanksgiving you’d had in a long time.

When Jack and Gabriel came back, things were better.

Somewhat.

They came to pick up Zeke together, but you could tell that it was painfully forced.

Their shoulders were too stiff when they hugged him, and they didn’t do so together like they used to.

He was confused, but seemed to understand to some extent.

Gabriel called a few days later with the full details on what had happened after they’d left.

“We told him,” Gabriel said. “We didn’t tell him everything but… God, dad, he’s eleven. He would have figured it out. We just… we didn’t want him to find out on the streets or from a magazine.”

“I understand. You did the right thing.”

“He still doesn’t get it. We’re going to try to make it work, but he’s looking at Jack like he’s going to attack me. I just don’t know if this is even worth it.”

You swallowed your words about how he should give it up. This was his life, it always was and would be. You weren’t lying. You would support him through everything.

“If it’s what you need to do, then you should go through with it. Just make sure that, going into this, it’s something you’re doing for yourself.”

“It isn’t like I don’t want to be with him anymore. Even after all of this, I still don’t want to lose him.”

“I know, I know,” you didn’t, “It’s hard to think of losing someone you know so well.”

“Sometimes, I feel like I don’t know him at all. It isn’t just this. I just don’t feel like he’s the same person.”

“If he’s making an attempt to change, give him the chance. If you can’t see him trying, then cut it off now,”  _ and get out while you still can. _ “This is your life more than it is his. Don’t stay to appease him.”

“I’m not staying for him. I’m not even staying for Zeke. I just don’t want it to end like this. There are people counting on us, and I’m counting on myself. I need to try here, dad. I need to be able to do this.”

You nodded, knowing that he couldn’t see, and took in a deep breath.

“Then I suppose that all I can give you as advice is to watch out for yourself. If he’s sorry, he’ll understand if you need some time to yourself.”

“Thanks dad. You know, talking to you really helps,” he said with a relieved sigh. “I just wish I could go back. I started noticing things a while ago. Some stuff with our calls popped up, like if his hair was messed up or noticing a jacket on his bed that wasn’t his. I just never thought he’d… that he would…”

The noise that came out of Gabriel’s mouth went straight to your heart, splitting it in two.

“That doesn’t matter now. I guess I should just try to put it behind us as best I can.”

You opened your mouth and closed it.

You bit your tongue and ground out an agreement you can’t say was genuine.

You lied through your teeth because that’s what your son wanted to hear.


	7. Chapter 7

Overwatch was standing on its last few legs when it welcomed three new members- none of which you really talked to. You didn’t like the energy on the base.

Every time you dropped by to visit, you never really felt like it was the same. The new recruits radiated a positive energy that you couldn’t seem to get behind. Young kids that sought to renovate this temple of peace out of a ruin of snakes- to breathe life into this husk.

They wouldn’t succeed.

It was getting worse, long ripped apart by a divide that only grew stronger.

Things started getting a bit better after the initial shock. The world’s governments were getting a handle on things, salvaging what they could. You’ll say this, Jack looked awful near the end of it. Blonde hair was long turned grey when yours had only halfway faded.

It was hard work, but things did get better.

That went away with the death of two well-known operatives, put on display for the world as a symbol of Overwatch and their failures.

Things got better again.

And then the Lacroix couple went missing.

Things got better again.

And then Ana died.

Every time things seemed to be moving ahead by one, they moved ten steps back.

You pretended you didn’t hear the chatter at every twist and turn, as well as the look on your son’s face every time he told you about one of the most current happenings from inside the base.

Ana’s death almost killed him.

He was left to go home and tell a young woman that he’d had a firm part in raising that her mother was dead.

You attended the funeral. It was an empty casket.

Fareeha gave a beautiful speech. If you weren’t already so cold inside, you would have been crying the entire ceremony.

After the funeral, you were left with Zeke a bit more often.

He was older at the prime age of thirteen.

Older meant reckless.

It wasn’t until you came home and had to chase a girl out of the front door that you realized just how reckless he was.

You wish you could say you and his fathers weren’t responsible for how he turned out. As things are, and how they were, this was always a possibility. It just wasn’t a possibility you liked to think about.

Other than high school girls finding an interest in your thirteen year old grandson, he took an interest in fighting. There were the physical fights at school, the street fights in the neighborhood, and the verbal fights with his fathers.

Most of the time, it wasn't Gabriel he was fighting with. It was Jack.

As you really didn’t have much experience in the way of disciplining children, you became something more of a go-between, reporting Zeke’s questionable behaviors to his fathers to allow them to handle that end.

So, when the incident with the girl happened, you were required to tell it to Jack when he came to pick him up.

Jack immediately looked to Zeke with wide eyes.

“Really?” he asked. “I thought your dad and I talked about this. You may think you’re ready for things like this but…” he took in a deep breath, “you know what? We’ll talk about this at home.”

“Why should we?” Zeke asked, shifting his shoulders back. “It’s not like it’ll be any different anyway. You’ll just say the same things you always do.”

“Zeke, come on. Don’t do this.”

“What? You want me to keep it in my pants when you can’t?” He shouldered past Jack and walked out the door. “Tch, hypocrite much?”

You watched him leave before turning to Jack, wishing there was something you could do. The only thing you can think of was reaching out and laying a palm over his shoulder.

He took your half-hearted, comforting gesture with a tired look of gratitude. Then he patted your shoulder, and he was out the door.

It was like you were learning how to raise a child all over again. His fathers were at as much of a loss as you were. The periods with his grandmothers provided more structure, but that only had him lashing out when he came to live with you.

Larger boys who walked him around with a hand woven around the back of his neck when he came home from school.

You watched every one of them with a wary eye.

He tended to hang out with older boys and girls alike, the kind that assured him of his maturity. He drank up every word and looked to them as gods. In reality, they were demons.

You didn’t like it, but he wasn’t your son.

Nothing he did was ever dangerous outright- and he didn’t go out of his way to break any of your rules. No one was to be in the house while you were out, home by ten, only meeting his dates in public areas- so no going to anyone’s house alone.

It wasn’t like you were oblivious- of course he broke a promise or two. He’d snuck out on more than one occasion, but he never seemed to care.

“What’s it going to take?” you asked, pulling him by the arm into the house.

He reeked of blood and beer- the cuffs of his pants wet from where a neighbor had literally hosed him down. Not a neighbor of yours, thank God, but a neighbor of the party he’d found so important as to go out when he was grounded.

He clucked his tongue.

“What’s it gonna take for what?”

“For you to realize that there are consequences for your actions! That girl tomorrow- who threw the party- her parents are going to come home and find it a mess. Her parents will find out details from the neighbor- she will be in heaps of trouble, just like you will be when your fathers find out about this!”

“So what? It’s not like they’ll _really_ do anything. Pop’ll get upset, dad’ll get upset. They’ll both yell at me and, when they think I can’t hear them, they’ll yell at each other. Then pop will leave, slam the door, and dad will cry in the kitchen. Or, dad will kick pop out and break the fridge’s door handle again. Or, if I’m lucky, dad will leave and pop will fall asleep on the couch waiting for him to get back. Then I’ll go up to nanna and grandma’s so that I can get in trouble up there all over again because obviously this is all _my_ fault!”

“You can’t blame anyone but yourself, niño.”

“No- stop calling me that!” he yelled. “I’m not a kid! I’m a man now!”

“You’re not! You’re still a child.”

“That’s not what my friends say, and they know more about me than my so called ‘family’ ever will!”

You froze at that, seeing the retreating form as Zeke disappeared.

When Gabriel showed up to pick him up, you welcomed him with a warm hug around his firm shoulders, and he returned it with a smile under his tired eyes.

When Zeke came out and started sliding on his boots, Gabriel’s smile wavered.

“So, how’d this weekend go?”

You looked down at your grandson and considered the party. Then you considered his words.

In that moment, you had two options. One was to confess the happenings and continue the cycle as it had been told to you. The other was to say what you did.

“It went well. We had a lot of fun.” You looked down at your grandson’s surprised expression and gave him a small smile. “¿Verdad, mi nietito?”

He looked surprised for a second, but then Zeke stood up and looked at Gabriel to say, “Yea we- ah- Sí. Claro, abuelo.”

He didn’t quite return the smile, but he left, for once, without a scowl on his face. It was enough to bring some of the weight off of your shoulders. You straightened out your back and took in a breath.

A step forward. But, as you said, one step forward, ten steps back.

Then again, you suppose the Zurich incident was more like knocking the whole thing back to the beginning.

This time around, it wasn’t some news broadcast that told you something was wrong. It started with the phone ringing, and then there was this underlying feeling. It was a thought in the back of your mind that, whatever was on the other end of that phone call, you wouldn’t be happy to hear it.

You answered it anyway, and you can’t say you’re upset that you did.

It was Linda.

She was crying hysterically, trying to sound out a sentence to you.

She kept pausing after, “Miguel- Miguel! Please tell me you’ve-“ and then she’d disintegrate into tears.

“Linda?” you asked, “Linda, are you alright?”

“Hand me the phone,” Helen’s voice came over the line, quieter than Linda’s and in a monotone voice.

“Maybe he’s heard- heard from them. Maybe it’s a mistake,” Linda sobbed. “Please, Helen.”

The phone let out a few echoing noises of being passed while Linda cried harder. Your chest was tight and you had stopped breathing, as if the smallest breath could break the fragile woman over the phone.

“Miguel,” Helen sighed, closer to the phone now. “You know Jack and Gabriel were both set up at the Zurich base, right?”

You nodded a few times, speeding up as you wondered why she wasn’t responding to you until you finally said, “Y-Yes, of course.”

“Well,” she hissed, “There was an outbreak in the base. It was a revolt of sorts. There was gunfire in the core of the base and… Jack and Gabriel….”

Most of the conversation was a blur.

You don’t really want to remember.

You didn’t get a lot of details by the time you managed to pull yourself together and hang up.

The double funeral was strange. There was a memorial set up for the lost overwatch members. That was where your son was buried. Or, where he would have been buried if they’d found the body. Destroyed in the blast.

What a joke.

So now you were left to add another photo to your living room. You took it from the front hallway, and put a new frame around it that matched the ones that fit the other photos of people you’d lost. It was your version of a proper funeral, to go against the one you’d gone out to attend, hosted by the UN. You didn’t care about signing off the rights to his funeral preparations. As far as you could see, it was an empty coffin they were burying. It wasn’t your son or his memory.

Other than that, you were given full custody of Zeke- that went over well.

Linda and Helen tried to fight you on it. It wasn’t anything formal like a court case, but they still fought you. You know they meant well. They had a full house, people who could support him. You weren’t strong enough to properly rear him. You knew that. Still, you couldn’t let go of your final piece of family.

You thought of when you lost Silvia.

Your reaction to that was similar, though you did your best not to completely shut yourself off. You had Zeke.

He opted to stay in the guest room instead of his father’s old room, still marked with the red letters.

You were hurt but, in all honesty, you couldn’t do anything. Your limbs were heavy and every moment left you either shaking in silent anxiety or needlessly still. You fell behind in work, only pushing projects after they reached a point where you couldn’t put them off any longer.

You wish you could say that having Zeke around made it better, that it gave you something to do. Instead, it only made things worse.

He was almost eighteen, and ready to run. The thought of it broke your heart.

He was done with his family, done with you. He just wanted out.

You can’t think of how you would have stopped him if it wasn’t for the girl showing up on your porch in the wee hours of the morning.

She was beautiful, and far too young to look that tired.

“Zeke, I know you don’t want to talk about it,” she said before you could open your mouth. “But this is your family too.”

You made a face and a small noise of thought, prompting her to really look at you.

It was probably the beard that gave you away, or the wrinkles around your eyes, or you know, the fact that you looked nothing like your grandson that tipped her off to the fact that she’d caught the wrong man.

She immediately started apologizing, shaking her hands and backing away.

“Ah- I’m sorry! Eh, you’re Mr. Reyes, right? Zeke- er- Ezekiel’s grandfather? That’s great. I mean, I need to go.”

“No, wait,” you put out a hand, “You need to speak to Zeke? What about?”

“Eh, it’s nothing.”

You cocked your head and raised a brow. “‘Nothing’ doesn’t bring a girl onto a boy’s porch in the middle of the night so that they can talk. If you don’t want to talk about it right now, come inside, please,” you opened the door. “You must be freezing.”

She wrung her hands and stepped inside, biting her lip.

“Now, what is it you’re doing out this late?” you asked. It was a Saturday, but LA still had a curfew to follow. “Your parents must be worried sick.”

She jumped a bit and held her arm. “Ah, they won’t be worried about me.”

She kept leaning forward, hunching her shoulders.

“Believe me.”

You wanted to disagree but, sensing a story, you opted against it and moved into the kitchen.

“Well why don’t you have some tea, miss..?”

“Eh, it’s Josefina. Josefina Ramirez.”

You smiled at hearing the name. A voice that had previously been free of any accent suddenly became thick around the beginning for a strong “Hosephina.”

You said your exact thoughts with a small chuckle, “Ah, a lovely name. Now, please, sit at the island, I’ll make up a couple of cups of tea, and then I’ll get Zeke. Are you hungry?”

She perked up as if to say yes, only to lower herself. “Ah, no, I’m fine. Thank you though.”

You cocked a brow and decided to push over a box of crackers from the cabinet.

“I insist.”

You would have given her something sweet if you had anything in the house. As things were, it was a month after Gabriel’s death and you really weren’t in the mood for baking as of late.

By the time you had the cups made, Josefina had already powered through a sleeve of the crackers.

You set down the three mugs and determinedly went down the hall to knock on Zeke’s door.

“Eh? What is it, grandpa?”

No longer Abuelo.

“A girl is here to see you,” you said.

He opened up the door to give you a skeptical look. “And you let her in? Don’t you usually chase them out?”

You shrugged and kept your expression flat. “This one seems different. I’ve never seen her before.”

He cocked his head and came out into the hall.

He was going to see this girl without even running a hand through to comb his hair? What kind of grandson did you have?

When he turned into the kitchen and saw her, Josefina stood from the stool she was perched on and bowed her head.

“Eh, hello, Zeke.” Her eyes dodged to the side. “I need to talk to you.”

His eyes were wide, as if he was seeing a ghost.

“Josefina, we talked about this,” he said. “It’s not mine.”

“It can only be yours,” she said, stepping closer. “It can’t be anyone else’s I-”

“Sh!” he snapped his head around to look at you.

A silent plea for privacy.

You raised your hands and nodded, stepping forward.

“Just grabbing my tea,” you said, “I’ll get a start on some files, call me if you need anything.”

Zeke wouldn’t try anything with you in the house, and this didn’t seem like the kind of girl who would urge him to run out with her.

They were safe alone for a moment.

There was nothing audible from the kitchen, and then you heard Josefina shout something you couldn’t make out.

“I’m not doing this!” Zeke yelled back.

You made a face and ceased typing as you stood and moved out of the room.

“Zeke please, I don’t know where else to go! My parents said to just… just,” she sobbed loud enough for you to hear. “Please, Zeke. I just need you here with me, I chose you- our _family_ over everything else. I’ve basically lost a scholarship over this!”

“That was your choice, not mine!”

“It’s our choice! If you’re too stubborn to see that, then fine! I’ll take care of it on my own!”

Zeke went quiet for a moment before he said, “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Why should you care!?”

Then she squawked with anger, moving out of the kitchen door way and jumping when she caught sight of you in the shadows.

“Ah- Mr. Reyes,” she wiped at her eyes. “Uh- thank you. For your hospitality. But, um. I- I need to go.”

You watched her march past you, and you followed her to the entryway of the house.

“Oh, you don’t need to,” she was slipping on her shoes, “we have a spare bedroom you could sleep in.”

She laughed, voice broken. “I don’t think that’d be best. Thank you again.” She looked over you and yelled, “And I’m sorry you have to live with this horrible person!”

Then she was out the door.

She didn’t slam it. It was quiet.

It reminded you of another angry crier in your life. Then you turned down the hall to see Zeke in the kitchen door way.

With a sigh, you watched him dart back inside and walked down the hall to find him perched with the tea in his hands. It was the large bowl-like mug you’d pulled out for Josefina, not his own.

Your eyes softened.

“You were _eavesdropping?”_ he asked.

“I wanted to know what the yelling was about.”

He didn’t respond.

“Is she pregnant?”

He jumped at that and turned around on his stool.

“You _were_ eavesdropping!” he asked.

You let out a humorless laugh. “You forget, mijo, I had a child too young.” You leaned on the counter. “Of course, I knew what I wanted to do as soon as I got the news. It’s moments like that where things can either seem as easy as can be,” you looked at him, “or painfully complicated.”

“Ugh! Well complicated seems to fit better than anything,” he grabbed his head. “I don’t want a kid. She swears up and down that it’s mine but- but-”

“How far along is she?”

He sighed. “Almost six months.”

You let out a whistle.

The two of you stayed quiet for a small while. Then you look in a breath and turned to him.

“So,” you asked, “what are you going to do?”

“Not worry about it. Not my problem.”

You resisted the urge to glare.

“Should have thought of that before you had sex.”

He jumped and looked up at you, as if he was surprised to hear you push the subject.

“This isn’t just about you, mijo.”

“I have a lot on my plate right now,” he said. “I just, I wish this could have happened literally any other time.”

“Well, it’s happening now. So, I’ll ask again, ‘What are you going to do?’”

He locked his jaw.

“Why can’t I just leave?” he asked. “My _real_ dad left my mom. Maybe I shouldn’t break tradition.”

You nodded slowly. “So this is about you being adopted now, huh?”

“No! It’s not about that!” he looked up at you and averted his eyes quickly. “I just- I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“So you think this is familiar? Do you think a girl like that would put her baby up for adoption?”

He winced.

Your gaze softened. “You don’t know what you’re doing, and that’s okay. Just don’t push her out of your life yet. She’ll keep that baby. She seems smart, so she might make it on her own. But you need to ask yourself if you really want her to be alone in this.” You started walking away, only to add over your shoulder, “Oh, and can you make sure she knows she’s welcome in _my_ house any time.”

You saw him curl closer around his mug.

In the end, he fished her out and brought her home. Also as you’d expected, she was kicked out of her house. She couldn’t legally stay with you, but technically she was turning eighteen in a few weeks. After that, you wouldn’t be at risk of harboring a runaway.

There wasn’t a lot you could do aside from basic support. She insisted on cooking when she could, but you drew the line in the sand and told her if she wanted to avoid being a burden, as she always worried she would be, then she would go back to school.

She did, and you were glad for it.

She did end up missing out on a scholarship, but Zeke got his butt in gear.

It was about time.

He pulled through, taking a job at Walmart of all places.

His plan was to become an overnight stocker once they’d graduated, making a firm ten dollars and something an hour.

You personally interfered with every army letter.

There was a time when he proposed the idea, loosely of course. It wasn’t a real plan, just an idea.

Of course, it was an idea you firmly shut down.

Not in your house, not again.

You didn’t really keep in touch with Overwatch. Reinhardt retired, Torbjorn had a family of his own to see to, and the youngers were doing their best. A gorrilla of all things was now overseeing the program, and another girl you didn’t really know had become the new face of the organization.

It wasn’t enough to keep it afloat.

It would sink two years after you met your great grandson.

When they married, he only took the last name Reyes, as opposed to his hyphenated surname Morrison-Reyes. You didn’t bat an eye at first when they were going through the paperwork for the name change, but that changed when he notified Helen and Linda at the wedding.

There was a twinge of pain in their faces, but they didn’t let it show when Josefina pulled over with baby Uriel Reyes.

He was almost three at the time, and apparently mute.

At that time, he only knew basic signs, so you were surprised when Josefina held up his chubby arms, bounced him over and said, “Isn’t there something you wanted to tell your great grandmothers?” which prompted him to form a sign even you knew.

“I love you.”

You chuckled, knowing full well that it meant so much more to Linda and Helen.

All of these little boys. They were breaking your heart by just being the angels they were.

You were surprised to find that Angela had come out for the wedding. She didn’t stay long. Apparently, she had somewhere to go, but wanted to wish her “little brother” good luck.

She went off, saving lives overseas or whatever her kind and pure heart told her to do next. She was doing better than McCree, wherever he was. Probably parading around Nevada, flinging himself wherever the wind passed him.

You were left alone again when Zeke moved out, though it was on good terms. Married with a child, he found it the responsible thing to move out. Of course, you didn’t release him until you were absolutely sure that he could survive on his own. That meant an upgrade from Walmart stocking job to a proper career. For the time, it worked enough with Josefina going to night school and spending her day hours between Uriel and her retail job.

They weren’t able to afford a house right off the bat, but a two bedroom apartment downtown wasn’t too bad. The area was safe, clean, and the appartment was nice.

You pressed a kiss to your granddaughter-in-law’s head, and wrapped an arm around your grandson. You’d made peace with this piece of your family.

You now had a family you were determined to keep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a little shorter.  
> Buckle up though, the next chapter will be the last.


	8. Chapter 8

Your name is Ezekiel Reyes, and you had a pretty shitty childhood. Eh, you suppose that isn’t entirely true.

You were a little shit throughout the tail end. Other than that, it was fine.

It was almost eight years ago that you lost your fathers. Since then, you’ve really been focusing on reworking yourself and helping out with your little family.

It’s hard not to linger in the bathroom mirror and run your fingers over your cheeks. You know he wasn’t biologically your father, but sometimes you find yourself second guessing your reflection. You have the cheekbones, the same grin. Other than that, not much is the same, but you were still more so his son than your pop’s.

“Are you okay?”

You turn around and flinch at hearing Josefina sneak up on you.

She’s wearing a robe, hair and jewelry already in place.

“You don’t need to dress up, you know,” you say, eager for a new topic of thought.

It gets her to smile.

“This isn’t dressing up. This is just simple courtesy primping.”

“Courtesy primping?”

“You heard me.”

You laugh, looking up to her with a wide smile. “Well, I’m gonna wear jeans, and something tells me Uriel’s gonna be thinking more or less the same, so try not to go overboard.”

She smirks, moving as her ovular earrings shift against her neck.

“Yea, okay,” she moves out of the bathroom door way. “I’m letting Uriel wrap abuelo’s gift.”

“Okay. I’m sure he’ll love it.”

You comb out the spiky hair that hangs over your forehead and look in the mirror again. Echoes of your father’s face remain, but you feel more like yourself.

You step out into your room to find Josefina pulling on her coat, and she turns to you with a smile.

“It looks like it’s raining tonight. Should we call a car?” you ask.

“No,” she smirks and picks up an umbrella. “I think we’ll be fine.”

You nod and you both open the bedroom door to find a tiny figure there to welcome you.

He holds up the gift, now wrapped in a white box and red ribbon, with a proud smile on his face.

You laugh, scooping him up. “That looks so pretty. Did you do that all on your own?”

He nods enthusiastically, and you pull him closer.

“Well, we better get going,” Josefina says as she appears on your arm.

As you step out of your apartment building and into the night, you find that it’s more so of a fall temperature than a biting chill. It’s raining, just as you said, but Josefina has the umbrella over all three of you and you wrap an arm around her back. Together, the three of you are warm.

Uriel looks happy to just be outside. He always did like the rain.

“Make sure you keep the gift dry,” you say playfully. “We don’t want to give your bisabuelo a puddle, do we?”

Uriel looks up with a worried look and shook his head, prompting you to laugh.

“Just stay back, okay kiddo?”

You ruffle his hair, which puts a smile on his face easily enough as he turns forward.

Suddenly, there’s this warmth that spreads through your back, coursing through you. As you cross a street, you turn around, spotting a pale white face hiding in the halls of an alley. Its those eyes and their piercing glare that causes the burning sensation in your spine.

As soon as you spot the face, your wife pulls you out of the road with a yelp and you’re looking at her. Her eyes are wide, and mouth pulled into a frown.

“Zeke, what’s wrong?” she asks.

“Eh, what?” you ask.

“You were standing in the middle of the street! Were you looking to get run over?”

You look back and realize that Josefina managed to wretch you, near dead weight and all, a good two feet out of the way of a speeding car while you were stuck staring at the figure. How long were you staring at the alley?

“¡Hola! Earth to Zeke!” she waves a hand in front of your face. “¿Estás bien?”

You consider her question and look down to your son, who has a worried expression on his face.

“Yea, I’m fine! Perfectly okay,” you say, reaching for the umbrella that’s currently hanging uselessly at Josefina’s side while she was focusing on you. “Come on, the sooner we get out of this rain the better, right?”

She still looks uneasy, but ends up sighing with a smile as she says, “Sí.”

You pull her closer this time and, when she takes the umbrella back, you put a hand on Uriel’s shoulder and guide him forward. The image of that gaunt face won’t leave your mind for some time but, when you reach your grandfather’s neighborhood, the feeling of being watched melts away.

It’s always quiet around here, that never escapes your notice. 

You knock on the door while Josefina fiddles with her umbrella. Your eyes linger on the nativity scene on the lawn. Mary, Joseph, and their baby are plastic, lit from the inside and glowing in the darkness. They’re all hidden underneath a tiny wooden shelter that will serve as their stable for the night.

You try not to linger on the image of mary, who holds her hands over her breast, paint on her back chipping to reveal that odd skin tone, now orange from the light inside. Joseph’s eyes have long been worn away, even as he clutches his staff, and the baby rests peacefully, forever resting inside of his cradle.

Your grandfather finally opens the door and he can barely get out a hello before Uriel surges forward, pressing his wet form against his legs.

Miguel doesn’t seem to mind, laughing and leaning down to hug him with a groan. “Ah, and how are you doing, my little Uriel, huh? Oh, you’ve gotten so big!”

Uriel smiles before taking his right hand up from his stomach, across his chest, and then he takes it up into a semi-circle, all the while holding the present under his other arm.

Miguel gives you a look, which tells you he hasn’t learned that sign yet, and you resist the urge to laugh as you say, “He’s saying, ‘Merry Christmas.’”

That causes his eyes to go wide and he smothers his nose and beard into Uriel’s neck, groaning out laughter as he does so.

“Oh, Merry Christmas to you too, mijo!” he says, bringing him in for another tight hug. When he pulls away, both he and Uriel have wide smiles on their faces as they turn to you. “Thank you for coming over. You’re both looking well!”

“Yea, we’re doing great,” you say. “How about you?”

“Oh well, now? I couldn’t do any better!” he kisses Uriel on the forehead and stands up. “Now, I don’t know if anyone else can hear it, but there is a carton of eggnog in the kitchen, and it is  _ calling  _ for me. I don’t think I can finish it on my own though. Does anyone want to help me finish it?”

Uriel jumps up, raising his hand.

That brings out a melodic laugh before he turns up to see you two. “Come on, then. I think I might have something else for all of you, huh?”

“Are you trying to fatten us up?” you ask with a laugh.

“Perhaps. It would suit me well if you couldn’t leave.”

You laugh again, Josefina joining you, and you all walk down the hall to the kitchen.

As soon as you’d enter the hall, you are hit by a cloud of warm smells. This cloud is welcomed as it envelopes and pulls at you, bringing you further toward the kitchen.

When you turn the corner, you see that Uriel has already situated himself at the table.

You settle down with your family, say a prayer, and begin to eat.

It isn’t a stereotypical dinner. The table is small, and doesn’t necessarily have a head. You’re sitting across from your son, your grandfather on your left and your wife on your right. There’s a lot of smiling, a lot of laughing. Josefina says that she’ll make up for the meal with christmas dinner tomorrow, which you’re hosting at your house.

Miguel laughs and dismisses her, saying that it won’t be necessary. 

“Though,” he says, “if you were to repay me with anything, pecan pie would be expected.”

She smiles and throws him a wink while you laugh.

The night ends as expected.

You’re all sitting in the living room, Uriel spread over Josefina as he sleeps. You’re all watching some old christmas movie. Something about the origin of Santa Clause that Miguel insists was a favorite of yours as a child, even though you can’t remember it. You think he might be thinking of your father, but won’t say that.

You must have dozed off because, when you wake up, your grandfather isn’t in sight.

Standing up, you note that Josefina is also asleep, trapped underneath your son. You kiss her on the cheek and run a hand through Uriel’s thick hair before searching for Miguel.

The house is quiet, and only the sound of commercials after the long-ended christmas movie can be heard as you turn into the kitchen.

That’s where you find him, hunched over on a stool with his head down.

He doesn’t drink coffee anymore, but he has a mug of something darker than tea in front of him. Probably hot chocolate, but you can’t smell anything sweet.

He looks older.

You can’t tell if it’s the dramatic light of the stove being the only light source in the room, or if he always looked like that, but he does.

His hair is entirely grey, and you know he’s old.

Really thinking about it is a different story.

His once fit frame has shifted, back hunched, and too many worry lines crowd his forehead.

When you set foot in the kitchen, he looks up slowly with a smile.

“You know,” he says, “I’ve always loved Christmas.” He looks across the island at the lights on the stove and, silently, you cross the room to sit next to him. “Halloween was Gabriel’s favorite. He always loved the costumes and atmosphere, but I’d like to think it was because, somewhere deep down, he knew it as the first time he met me. He was only a baby, and I know he didn’t remember, but there’s a feeling that he did. This idea- this hope- that it was in the back of his mind when the season rolled around.”

You nod and cast your eyes to the counter top.

“He was always getting pop and I into those weird family costumes.”

“I still have the picture of you arresting your fathers. You made such a cute little cop.”

“Tch, yea.”

You remember the staged photo. Your fathers wore black and white striped shirts and eye masks, smiling at Ana as she took the photo with you positioned on top of them with your police uniform. That was when you were five, your second year with them. The costumes got more complicated of course, but that was one of Jack’s years in planning them.

They alternated.

“But no,” he sighs and resettles in his chair. “I love Christmas. It’s always so pleasant to see the lights and really just take a moment for the year to slow down. It’s also a bit pleasant to think of those we’ve lost and how they made us smile.”

You nod in agreement, not looking up from the table.

“It’s weird, you know,” you say, “Sometimes, I feel like he’s still there. Or at least, that someone is thinking about me.”

Somewhere in Egypt, two old soldiers are staring at echoes of the past. For the woman, it’s a hologram of her daughter that she received from a certain dwarf as a gift far too long ago. For the man, it’s a physical copy of a picture with you he managed to save from a melting building in Switzerland.

He thinks about you every day, wishing there was something he could do to go back in time and make all of this go away. He’s remembering the venom in your voice from the last time you saw each other because, though you may not know him if you saw him now, you have seen each other before. He’s trying not to cry right now, but he knows he’s going to lose it when the woman leaves him to see what she can gather as far as supplies. He knows that he’s going to start crying and that, even when she gets back, he won’t be able to stop.

Of course, you don’t know this is happening at all.

You think the man in Iran is dead, and his empty casket is buried underneath a memorial in New York next to the same building where the UN conventions are held.

So, you lean over on the eldest of the people you consider to be the last of your family, and you wrap an arm around him.

He does the same to you and you both look up into the stove light.

This allows you both to miss the figure standing on the edge of the garden. If you saw him, you might call him a stranger and threaten him out of the backyard as a whole. You wouldn’t know that his claw-like hands are the same hands that planted the red garden sage he’s only a hair away from stepping on.

Of course, you don’t need to threaten him out of the yard. He only has to look through the glass sliding door of the kitchen to take his leave. He only had to know you were safe, and to tell himself that you don’t need him anymore.

And maybe you don’t need him.

You didn’t even know he was there.

Still, that doesn’t change this feeling in the pit of your stomach that you missed something.

Either way, you eventually wake up Josefina and Uriel, leaving after you’ve helped with the dishes and called an Uber. The rain is coming down harder and, honestly, you’re not walking home in this.

Miguel stands in the doorway and wishes you all goodnight, knowing he’ll see you all tomorrow.

You wish him goodnight, and think for the first time in a long time about visiting that memorial, or maybe calling your grandmothers.

The car starts up, and your son shifts against you while your wife shoots you a tired smile and tries not to fall asleep.

She won’t succeed in staying awake, and you will have two figures to carry into the house with you. But that’s okay though because you’ll be happy to do this.

Tonight, you feel okay.

You feel complete.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This brings us to the end of Storyline.  
> If you want to include Miguel in any works- as I have had expressed to me- Please feel free! Of course, please credit me for the OC, and I would greatly appreciate being tagged and/or linked to whatever works you create.  
> I might visit this story to insert pictures throughout it- but that's a big might.  
> Also, for those who don't get it: Zeke and his family are the ones Reaper was watching in the comics. Shout out to Daemon70 for figuring it out early!


End file.
